


(Techni)Colour Vision

by Charlie_chan16



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Last Christmas (2019) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Moulin Rouge! Fusion, Alternate Universe - Princess Mononoke Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Greatest Showman Fusion, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Courtesan Keith, Dancer Keith (Voltron), Dancer Lance (Voltron), Engineering, Everybody Lives, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Kuron is called Ryou and he's a wolf too, Lance (Voltron) Needs a Hug, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Romance, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Wind Rises fusion, Wolf Shiro (Voltron), well apart from one chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_chan16/pseuds/Charlie_chan16
Summary: A hush suddenly came over the room as the flames once again turned red and a long tongue of flame jutted out from the Goblet.“Keith Kogane,” Professor Kolivan murmured, his voice achingly loud to Keith’s ears as his stomach bottomed out.--Keith could hear his heavy breathing and his heart thumping in his ears but the sound of someone clearing their throat quietly broke through the white noise.“S-Sorry, again, it’s just,” the guy began, glancing down at the floor. Keith watched as he pulled back his shoulders and steeled his expression, the guy looking at him in determination. “I wanna dance with you.”--The wolf boy suddenly huffed in annoyance, grabbing for the meat that had flopped to Lance’s chest and tearing into it deftly. He chewed vigorously before suddenly leaning forward. Lance’s eyes widened and he found the energy to throw his hands up, spluttering loudly to the wolf boy’s surprise.“I’d like to know the name of the person who’s about to inadvertently kiss me,” Lance said with an indignant tone and he felt his heart practically flutter in his chest at the wolf boy’s astounded expression.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure - HP

**Author's Note:**

> Hello you lovely human beings! And welcome to the project that has encompassed the last month of my life. 
> 
> This is a literal love letter to my love of these movies and Klance because 2020 has been a bit shitty - which granted is the understatement of the century but I digress - and it was in late October when I had just gotten used to college life online that I decided that I needed a creative boost and some wholesomeness. And so this monster was conceived. 
> 
> Each chapter will be a different film - it's kinda annoying I couldn't have a quote from each in the summary but oh well - and the main pairing will be Klance, so if you don't like that sort of thing kindly see yourself out. Obviously there will be MAJOR spoilers for each film so please tread carefully and if you haven't seen one - or any - of these please do take the time to do so, they're really good and I'm putting my symbol of approval on them as a film student - although that doesn't mean much XD. 
> 
> (And yes the work title is inspired by MAX's song Colour Vision - thanks Lynx XD - and yes the title is a Harry Potter quote sue me) 
> 
> Just a little warning that there will be some triggers in a few of the chapters but fear not, I will be putting them into the Author's notes when they apply and the tags will be updated as I post chapters. Just to say this one has some disassociation and Keith does experience a panic attack after the champions ceremony so please do be wary of it! It starts at the line "His heart felt as if it were beating out of his chest..." and the disassociation occurs a bit after that. 
> 
> I hope you're all keeping happy, safe and sane! <3

“Have you found her yet?” 

The figure was drowned in darkness, his facial features hidden in shadow but his eyes bright as amber. He stared at the disciples before him, their cloaks shrouding their silhouettes and their masks providing them with a sense of anonymity. But little did they know he could distinguish them by scent alone. The perks of quintessence he supposed. 

One of them stepped forward, his voice quiet and shaking as he addressed the Emperor on his throne. 

“We’ve been unsuccessful, My Lord. But t-there have been sightings of one with her description on the borders of Scotland,” he said, his tone slightly triumphant. 

Haggar sneered at him from the Emperor’s side, eyes burning into the follower with sheer disdain. “You  _ fool _ ,” she said, “of course she’d be near that pathetic school. Her son is a student there.” And the man cowed under her spite even as Zarkon raised a hand, silence descending on the dark room with that singular gesture. 

“It is all well and good to gain... _ sightings _ ...however, we want to actually capture her. She has stolen too many secrets to allow her to roam free,” Zarkon said, his gaze running over each of their masks and watching them flinch in fear. 

“I believe a little visit to my old school is in order,” he said, his gaze cutting to Haggar whose smile was all teeth as their laughter rang throughout the room. 

\-- 

Breakfast was always a hectic affair in Hogwarts, but it seemed that with the new arrivals and the old relic that had taken pride of place at the top of the Great Hall, the excited atmosphere had ratcheted up a couple of notches. Keith didn’t mind it that much, but he could tell Lance was living for it. The Gryffindor talked constantly, his voice loud as he and Pidge discussed what happened the night before animatedly. 

The four of them had taken their seats in their usual spot halfway down the Hufflepuff table. Lance claimed it was because the house had the best food laid out, but Keith guessed it was because he didn’t want to be surrounded by James Griffin and his bunch. And Keith didn’t have a large want to sit with his housemates either. 

“You’re actually going to try out?” Pidge asked, snatching a pastry and adding it to the small collection of food congregating on her plate. 

“Why not? It’s a once in a lifetime thing,” Lance said with a shrug. “Plus that prize money sounds like a good incentive.” 

Keith shook his head in fond exasperation, catching Lance’s eye over the table. 

“I don’t think I’d even try to put my name in the Goblet,” Hunk commented, brows creasing in anxiety as all their gazes cut to the relic. It seemed so ordinary and unassuming even if it looked as if it was recently excavated with all the dust that seemed to molt from its sides. 

“Well, Keith and I can’t even try,” Pidge commented, knocking Keith from his thoughts.

“Oh yeah, age limit. Forgot about that,” Lance said, his mouth ticking up with a smirk. 

“No you didn't, you ass,” Pidge replied, tossing a crumb at Lance’s head. 

“And of course, Shiro would kill Keith in his sleep if he even considered it,” Lance said, tone cheeky and smirk wide as the other rolled his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t even want to. It sounds like a waste of time,” Keith told the group, his gaze focused on his plate. But even so, he heard Lance’s gasp of shock, his own mouth twitching at the image of him leant back with his lips wide open in shock. 

“Well then, I know who I won’t be sharing my glory with,” Lance said, pulling a smile from Keith and getting another crumb thrown at his head by Pidge. 

Classes that day were anything  _ but  _ calm as the whole school buzzed with the news of the Triwizard tournament. The visitors from the other two schools joined the students of Hogwarts, and Keith watched as Lance tried to talk up any Beauxbatons girls and Durmstrang boys that came near him. 

Shiro caught Keith just as he was leaving his Defence Against the Dark Arts class, grip firm and gaze serious as the rest of the students filed out. 

“I know what you’re going to say Shiro,” Keith said in an exasperated tone, almost rolling his eyes at the look his brother was pinning him with. 

“Then you know how serious this is,” came the reply. “The Triwizard Tournament could be a cover for You-Know-Who to make his move.” 

“You can say his name Shiro,” Keith said, “it’s Zarkon, and he can’t exactly get me in here.” He could feel his brother’s grip grow tighter, but Keith ran the palm of his hand over Shiro’s knuckles, gaze earnest and genuine with what he said next. “I’m not entering. I’ll let Lance take all the glory. And, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” 

He hated how worried Shiro got, but he knew it wasn’t without cause. Because of his mother, it seemed the Dark Lord had placed a target on Keith’s back. He recalled how Lord Zarkon had sent in his best assassins to try and capture Keith a year ago for leverage against Krolia. They had been stopped at the gates, the protective charms that had been there since Hogwarts had been built effectively scaring them off. 

So he understood when Shiro grew anxious, especially since Keith seemed to be that one person who attracted trouble like a magnet. He wouldn’t want to add to Shiro’s anxiety by signing up for something that sounded like a death wish. 

The rest of the day passed calmly, and much the same for the week that followed. The Goblet was meant to choose the champions on Halloween night, that Friday night now that Keith thought about it, and there was often a line at mealtimes of students entering their names. Lance returned to their table once he’d put his in, a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

Keith spent most of the week concentrating on his work. Sixth year was a large undertaking and N.E.W.Ts seemed to be all that the professors talked about. He was glad when Friday came around, the whole castle feeling as if it were releasing a sigh of relief as the week ended. 

However the excitement wasn’t over, and with Friday came the jack-o’lanterns hanging from the ceiling and the dinner tables ladened with so much food Keith thought he could see the wood bending under the weight of it. 

As it was a formal meal the houses weren’t allowed to blend together, so both Keith and Pidge sat with their fellow housemates, avoiding any conversations with others and keeping an eye on Hunk and Lance. 

The Goblet stood proudly at the top of the Great Hall, it’s flames burning a brilliant blue and crackling merrily as the sounds of talk and laughter filled the room. Keith watched with a small smile as Shiro tried to avoid Flitwick's errant fork, the tiny professor regaling Monsieur Alfor with stories and tales that were taller than him. 

The Great Hall grew silent once Professor Kolivan stood to address the whole school, the headmaster’s expression unreadable as he clasped his hands in front of him. 

“I hope everyone has enjoyed themselves,” he began, gaze hovering over the students with a critical expression. “But it is time for the main event; the Champion Selection.” 

A thunderous applause echoed throughout the Great Hall, and Keith suddenly thought his eyes were deceiving him as the Goblet’s flames grew higher, almost as if it were feeding off of the energy within the room. 

From across the way Keith watched as Lance’s posture straightened, his gaze locked onto the relic and mouth pressed into a firm line. Keith knew what this would mean for Lance if he were able to win the competition. He knew of how pressed the McClain family were for money, and yet he thought they were the richest in happiness. Still, he could see Lance’s gaze follow as Professor Kolivan approached the goblet. 

A silence fell over the Hall again as everyone watched the cup with bated breath. There were three Champions, one from each school so depending on the student size you either had a good or very small chance of being chosen. Keith watched anyway, heart beating in his throat, as the flames turned bright red and a small piece of parchment was spat into the air. 

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is Allura Altea,” Professor Kolivan announced to roaring applause. Keith watched as a girl in the Beauxbatons blue stood from the Ravenclaw table, her pale hair catching the firelight and turning it almost ethereal. 

As she approached the table Kolivan directed her to a small room off to the side and Monsieur Alfor bowed his head to her. Keith suddenly noticed the stark resemblance between the two, realising that Alfor was Allura’s father. But that seemed to be the least interesting thing to him at that moment as the flames grew red again and a second piece of parchment darted into the air. 

“The Champion for Durmstrang is Lotor,” Professor Kolivan called out, his voice drowned out by the applause that surrounded the Slytherin table. 

Pidge nudged his side suddenly, pointing at the Durmstrang students a few places down. “They don’t look happy,” she said, as a few of them almost seemed to growl at Lotor as he gracefully stood from his seat. Others sneered at him, their words covered by the noise that filled the Hall. 

Keith watched as the tall boy with hair the same shade as Allura’s joined her in the room at the side. He didn’t get a good look at him as his back was turned to him but he watched as he passed by the staff table, the Headmaster of Durmstrang pinning him with a hard glare. 

Once more the flames of the Goblet turned red and the final piece of parchment fluttered down from the air. It seemed like the whole room held bated breath, all eyes on Professor Kolivan as he unfolded the piece of paper. 

“The Champion for Hogwarts is Lance McClain,” Professor Kolivan proclaimed, and Keith and Pidge cheered as loud as they could. Lance’s smile suddenly seemed to be the brightest thing in the room to Keith as he watched the Gryffindor make his way up between his table and Hufflepuff’s, his back being thumped by multiple friends and classmates as he passed. 

“That’s brilliant,” Pidge exclaimed once Lance had disappeared into the room, and Keith couldn’t stop his own smile that spread over his lips. 

“Well, that’s it then, we have our Champions and we wish them all the best luck,” Professor Kolivan called over the noise, the whole of Hogwarts seemingly rejoicing at Lance’s choosing. However a hush suddenly came over the room as the flames once again turned red and a long tongue of flame jutted out from the Goblet. 

Keith and Pidge exchanged a glance as the paper was grasped in the Headmaster's hands, both as confused as the other. 

“Keith Kogane,” Professor Kolivan murmured, his voice achingly loud to Keith’s ears as his stomach bottomed out. His gaze instantly flickered to Shiro’s, shaking his head minutely at his brother’s pale face. He didn’t do it, how  _ could  _ he? The age line that had surrounded the Goblet was fool proof. And yet it seemed his name had been entered as Kolivan’s voice called out his name once again and Pidge gently pushed Keith from his seat. 

Her gaze was as concerned as his as he made his way up the Slytherin table, averting his eyes at the looks he was getting. He could feel panic overwhelm him as he passed the staff table, Shiro standing from his seat and following him into the room. His heart felt as if it were beating out of his chest, his breaths coming faster and faster as the other three Champions glanced up at the door opening. 

Lance immediately spotted Keith’s panic attack, making his way over and placing his hands on his shoulders. “Keith-- Keith you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?” he asked, blue eyes so kind and worried as he brought Keith down. “That’s it, in for four out for eight you got it.” 

Keith could barely make out the doors opening again through the white noise that filled his ears, but he forced himself to concentrate on Lance, trying to get his lungs to match the breathing pattern the other was trying to exaggerate. His hand comes up to clutch Lance’s shirt, using him to ground himself as he clenches his eyes shut, wishing it were all a dream and Lance was the only Hogwarts Champion. As it should be.

Once he’d calmed, Professor Kolivan approached him with a stern but concerned gaze. “Kogane, I know it is probably unlikely due to your reaction, but did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” he asked quietly and Keith shook his head almost violently. 

“No, I didn’t put my name in,” Keith said, his voice slightly shaky. 

“There is nothing we can do though. The boy is now in a binding magical contract until the tournament is finished,” Alfor suddenly chipped in, his hand coming up to grasp Allura’s shoulder. 

“Yes but isn’t there a way to work around this?” Shiro asked, his brows pinch and face pale as he fiddled with his fingers. 

“I’m afraid not,” Professor Kolivan told him, his expression concerned. “Once the contract is binding there is no way to step out of it.” 

It seemed that was the final word on the matter, and Keith felt as if he were in a trance as Shiro led him out of the room and into the empty Great Hall. Keith knew what this was, he had experienced disassociation a few times in his life, but never to this degree and he felt as if he were floating above himself as the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory came into view. 

He suddenly lost a bit of time as he found himself seated on his bed with Pidge gently rubbing his arm in comfort as he suddenly felt tears drip down his cheek. 

Pidge gathered him into her arm gently as he sobbed, his shoulders shaking harshly as the events of the evening crashed over him like a wave. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to do the Tournament, he didn’t want the attention or the snide comments that would come with this. He’d already gained enough from the attack last year, he didn’t need a bigger target on his back. 

\-- 

As he guessed, the stares he gained as he walked into the Great Hall could fry an egg and he was incredibly tempted to turn right around and leave again. However Lance waved him over with a bright smile and he quickly walked to their table. 

He felt utterly grateful to his friends as none of them directed a hard stare in his direction, in fact Hunk seemed to carry the conversation as if nothing had happened the night before. Keith sunk into the familiarity that surrounded him, comforted by the fact that his friends wouldn’t doubt him. 

As breakfast finished the Champions were called over by Kolivan and Lance dragged Keith over with a determined grip on his wrist. Lotor pinned the two Hogwarts Champions with a curious gaze, and Allura smiled kindly at the two of them. 

It was explained succinctly that the first task would occur on the 22nd of November on the Quidditch pitch. No details were given, and the four Champions attended class with the thought of the first challenge weighing on their minds. 

The date of the first challenge wasn’t as far away as Keith had first suspected and he found himself dragged to the library with Pidge who had somehow become his personal coach. 

“Why are we in here?” Keith whispered, keeping a wary eye out for Pince as he followed her through the shelves of books. 

“We don’t know what the first task will be, but we know we can prepare by learning new spells that can be used in any challenge,” she told him, adding  _ Advanced Potion Making  _ to the growing pile of books in Keith’s arms. “You never know when you could make good use of a Sleeping Draught.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think there’s going to be anything of use in this,” Keith said, holding up the copy of  _ The Goblin War and Following Politics _ she had added to the pile. 

Pidge scoffed, allowing the book to float back to its shelf and turning around quickly so that Keith couldn’t see the blush spreading up her neck. “Of course not. I was just testing to see if you were paying attention.” 

“Sure Pidge,” Keith said with a small chuckle. 

It was growing colder as November progressed, but it seemed Lance was determined to keep going to their special area for a break, dragging Keith and Pidge away from their books and under the large oak tree that shaded them from most of the wind. Hunk usually followed behind with his arms ladened with food from the kitchens and Keith wouldn’t deny it was nice. 

“Hunk, buddy, my main man, you’re going to turn me fat with the amount of food you’re giving me,” Lance told him, groaning as he stuffed a sandwich into his mouth with great gusto. “And I need to keep this amazing bod for all the ladies and gentlemen.” 

“What bod?” Pidge asked cheekily, gaze focussed on the book in her hands as Lance squawked and shoved her shoulder harshly. 

“Rude!” he shrieked, and Keith felt a laugh bubble out of his chest at the Gryffindor’s affronted look. 

“Excuse me?” an accented voice suddenly asked, causing the four friends to glance behind them. Allura stood in her thin blue uniform, looking the epitome of grace as she smiled kindly. “Can I join you? It’s just a lot of the tables in the Great Hall are full, and this looks like such a beautiful place to sit.” 

Keith could see the minute Lance plastered on his charm, his smile turning flirty as his blue eyes sparkled. Outwardly, his own eyes rolled but he felt something in his chest twinge as Lance scootched over to let Allura sit down. 

“So, what do you think of the first challenge?” Lance asked, tone genuinely curious. 

“I’ve been reading a lot of charms books, your library’s stock is absolutely amazing,” she almost gushed, and the other three watched as the two of them began to chat voraciously about their strategies for the first task. Allura asked Keith the same question but Pidge answered for him, giving away as little as possible, almost like a coach. 

Keith didn’t converse much with Allura, not because he didn’t want to, but because she seemed to be more interested in chatting with Lance. And that seemed to do something funny to Keith’s mood so he excused himself quickly to head back to the castle. He didn’t notice Lance’s worried gaze on his back. 

\-- 

“Keith!” Lance called from down the corridor, pushing between the throngs of students. “Can I talk to you for a sec? Privately?” He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing hold of Keith’s arm and dragging him towards a small corridor that was cordoned off by a large painting that seemed irrevocably damaged. 

“What?” Keith asked, crossing his arms in slight annoyance. He had potions in five minutes and he didn’t think his professor would be very pleased with him if he were late again. 

“I found out what the first challenge is!” Lance said, grinning widely at the astonished look Keith threw him. “Well actually Allura told me what it is but-- whatever, anyway.” 

Lance seemed to have to take a few seconds to calm himself and once again Keith felt that twinge in his chest again, but shoved it down for now. He’d think about it when he had time to. 

“It’s dragons,” Lance whispered, leaning forward to get closer to Keith’s ear. 

As he pulled back he felt a shiver run down his spine at Lance’s warm breath, but instead he scrunched his nose in confusion. “What?” he asked in an incredulous tone, turning his head to check for Pidge and Hunk to make sure Lance wasn’t pulling his leg. 

“Yeah, apparently we have to fight dragons! Isn’t that so cool?” Lance explained, his blue eyes alight with excitement. “Well, maybe not cool ‘cause there’s the bodily harm  _ but  _ it’s exciting, right?” 

“I guess?” Keith said, his tone questioning. 

“Don’t give me that, you’re probably already thinking of ways to beat the dragon at its own firepower,” Lance accused, his eyes rolling in fond exasperation. 

Keith scoffed out a laugh, surprised that Lance knew him so well. Something flickered over his eyes that Keith couldn’t quite understand, and it stuck with him for the rest of the day, his thoughts running the interaction over and over in his head. 

\-- 

The morning of the first challenge dawned bright and cold, and Keith felt nervous as soon as his feet touched the ground. He could feel people staring at him as he made his way to the Great Hall, dressed in his Quidditch gear with his wand up his sleeve. 

The houses were separated once again, and Keith spotted Lance as soon as he stepped inside. It seemed he wasn’t the only one feeling nervous as Lance looked white as a sheet. Keith found he couldn’t eat, and instead fiddled with the eggs on his plate. 

Pidge, being the stubborn person she is, insisted he drank some pumpkin juice or she’d reveal the crush he had when he was younger on Gilderoy Lockheart. Keith begrudgingly drank, his dark eyes glaring at the other so fiercely he didn’t notice one of the Beauxbaton girls squeaking behind Pidge. 

The glares he received when Professor Kolivan announced that the Champions could head down to the Quidditch pitch were harsh enough to melt plastic, and Keith found himself ducking his head as he left the Great Hall. He suddenly thought of how it should be, how he should be sitting with Pidge waiting to go down to the pitch with the rest of them, banners clutched in their hands to cheer Lance on. 

Instead, here he was sitting in the Champions tent in slight terror as the noise level outside grew exponentially. He clenched his fingers tight, the leather of his gloves creaking slightly under the pressure. Allura and Lotor look completely at ease, both muttering spells under their breath as they wandered around the tent. 

Lance had taken a seat next to Keith, and out of the corner of his eye, he could spot his leg as it jiggled in place. He felt tempted to reach out a hand and place it on his knee, but he knew that would be slightly weird so he kept his hand in his lap. 

Keith didn’t have a strategy, and usually he would have at least a half-baked plan but at this point his mind was blank. He knew he had no chances if it was a battle of speed, and he had very little control over water magic so that was out of the running, and he didn’t have his broom with him although he doubted he’d be able to defeat a  _ dragon  _ at flight. 

So that left deception and stealth, not the best techniques of his but it was his only shot at surviving the challenge to see another day. He knew a few transfiguration spells that would help him, and that  _ confundus  _ charm Pidge taught him might come in handy. He spent the next few minutes thinking of the arsenal of spells he’d been taught over the years, mentally setting aside the ones that would help.

He didn’t realise they were ready to start until Lance elbowed him in the side. He glanced up in surprise at the others gathered around Professor Kolivan and he scrambled to his feet. 

“We’re all here? Good. Now, this challenge will test your ability to think on your feet and the spells you have to hand. You will reach into this bag and draw out a number which will determine the running order,” he explained, lips pursed into a thin line as he held out the felt bag to Lotor. Keith noticed that something inside it was moving, wriggling around and causing the fabric to shift. 

Lotor reached in without flinching, hand coming out holding a tiny model of a dragon which had the number one wrapped around its neck. A Norwegian Ridgeback. The model sent a puff of smoke at Lotor, its small growl sounding almost cute. Lotor didn’t seem very pleased with it, but Professor Kolivan moved on anyway. 

Allura pulled out a Swedish Short-Snout with the number four around its throat, and Lance gained a Hungarian Horntail with the number three around its neck. 

Keith felt incredibly wary as he reached his hand in, feeling something nip his thumb before he brought it out of the bag. A Hebridean Black sat on his palm, its purple eyes staring into his own as Keith inspected the number two wrapped around its neck. 

“Good, you have your dragons,” Professor Kolivan began. “Now the challenge will begin in fifteen minutes, you can use any means to capture the golden egg from your dragon’s nest but you have an hour in which to take it.” 

At that Professor Kolivan left them to it, but not before gesturing for Keith to follow him. 

“A word, Kogane?” he asked, leading them out of the tent and away from prying eyes. “We’ve had some contact with your mother.” 

“Is she okay?” Keith asked, eager for any tidbit about Krolia he could get. They couldn’t write letters to each other for fear of them being intercepted, and Keith only ever got to see her during the summer and even then they were fleeting visits. 

“She sent this to the school. It is for you,” Kolivan told him, holding out a cloth-wrapped package. 

It looked unassuming, but Kolivan tilted his body slightly to the left so that he and Keith were out of the eyesight of anyone passing as he tugged the cloth away. He remembered seeing the knife he now held in his hands. Usually it was strapped to his mother’s belt and hidden by the cloak she usually wore. The insignia on the pommel of the blade glowed purple, the colour easily hidden by the cloth it had been wrapped in. 

“This is hers,” Keith said hesitantly, “why is she giving it to me?” 

“Because she believes you’ll have more use of it now than she will,” Kolivan explained, as if it made perfect sense . Even though Krolia is the one running around the country with a Dark Lord on her trail and Keith is the one perfectly safe tucked away in the castle. 

“Thank you,” he tells the Headmaster, the words utterly genuine as he sheaths the knife and ties in around his waist. He doubted he’d be using it anytime soon but it was good to have it. Kolivan nodded to him before making his way to the teacher’s viewing box, leaving Keith to enter the tent once more. 

He spent the rest of the fifteen minutes they had before the first task began warming up, taking his mind off of what he would have to face by concentrating on his muscles instead. He spied Lance out of the corner of his eye as the other murmured spells and hexes, circling the tent with a nervous look. 

Lotor was finally called out to the arena to thunderous applause, the sound almost deafening, but none of the other three Champions were allowed to watch. They could only listen to the sounds of the dragon’s roars and the audience’s reactions as Lotor attempted to capture his egg. 

Keith could feel the nerves burning through his chest, his heart thumping loud in his ears as he tried to deepen his breathing. He remembered what Shiro had taught them in second year about duels, how an out of breath wizard was a dead wizard. Although that class had been slightly terrifying to a bunch of twelve year olds, it got through to them that day.

It took Lotor twenty minutes to capture his egg, and Keith suddenly realised that Pidge’s brother Matt was the commentator as he praised Lotor’s use of a transfiguration charm over the speakers. The Durmstrang student sauntered back into the tent with a smirk on his face and his clothes smoking slightly. He was dragged away to be checked on by medical as Keith was called out to the arena. 

He was greeted by silence, and a quiet growling that rumbled in his bones as he got his first look at his opponent. The Hebridean Black was massive, its black scales glinting in the weak November sun. Its spade tipped tail whipped behind it and its purple gaze locked onto Keith’s with a ferocity he’d never seen before. He could see the egg he needed to capture, the metal glinting gold as the dragon stepped forward slowly. 

With a deep stealing breath breath Keith cast his first spell - a Disillusionment charm - and blended in with his surroundings. The dragon huffed a breath of smoke, its growl growing louder as it lifted up to hover over the area with a great flap of its wings. 

Keeping his breathing regulated Keith grabbed hold of a loose rock next to him, tossing it to his right as he ran towards the left side. The resulting clack drew the dragon's eyes and its claws clicked against the stone beneath it. 

“ _ Lapifors _ ,” he whispered, pointing his wand towards one of the real eggs that sat in the dragon’s nest. At the sound of the rabbit shuffling in its nest the dragon swung around and roared, bounding over to it quickly. Screams were heard from the crowd as the dragon pounced on its egg-turned-bunny but the blood they were expecting didn’t come as the spell failed and the illusion dropped. 

However it gave Keith time to get to the other side of the arena, closer to the nest and the dragon. He held very still as the beast noticed his absence, its eyes roaming the rocks once again. From what he knew, Hebridean Blacks had heightened eyesight due to its unnatural iris colour but its sense of smell was its let down. So if Keith managed to stay downwind of the dragon he’d be fine. 

He didn’t dare use the same transfiguration spell as he watched the dragon prowl forward, going in the opposite direction to his position. He waited with baited breath as it placed its paw on a large rock before darting up from his hiding place. 

“ _ Evanesco _ ,” he cried, aiming for the rock and sending the dragon to its side as it lost its balance. He then turned for the nest as the beast roared in outrage. “ _ Accio  _ egg,” he called, watching as the golden egg zipped towards him. His hands closed around it to triumphant applause, the arena filled with sound as a troop of caretakers came forward to calm the dragon. 

“That puts Keith Kogane at second with a time of thirty five minutes and his clever use of the  _ Accio  _ spell,” Keith heard Matt call through the announcement speakers as he was led back to the tent. 

He wasn’t injured badly, just a few scrapes on his palms from the environment but he had to be checked over anyway. He felt as if he were in a dream, watching through someone else's eyes as Lance came and sat next to him on the med bed. 

They sat in silence for a while as the Hebridean Black was led away and Lance’s dragon brought into the arena, and Keith suddenly realised that his hands were shaking. He clenched them tight, his gloves covered in rock dust and grime that got underneath his fingernails. He didn’t realise his head was bowed, his hair hiding his eyes and he didn’t notice Lance was leaning over to place his hand on Keith’s until the other unfurled his fingers. Keith watched in fascination as Lance tangled their digits together, and the two of them sat there until the applause from outside dragged Lance away to face his own dragon, leaving Keith by himself. 

He couldn’t listen to the sounds outside, his mind going into a tailspin with all the scenarios he was imagining Lance in. He couldn’t bear the wait as the roars of the dragon grew more ferocious the longer time went on. But it finally finished, and Lance entered the tent once again with his golden egg in his hands, and soot covering his cheeks. 

“You okay?” Keith asked him, feeling something in his heart ache to touch Lance, just to make sure he was alive and real. The Gryffindor smiled brightly at him as the nurse wrapped his bloody knuckles. 

“Did you punch the dragon?!” Keith asked incredulously, watching as Lance laughed, throwing back his head. 

“No I’d expect that from you, hot-shot,” he replied, blue eyes twinkling in mirth. “I just scraped my hand. That dragon couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” 

“Really? Because the scoreboard says otherwise,” Lotor sneered from where he sat on the other side of the tent. “Forty five minutes seems a long time, don’t you think.” 

Lance spluttered slightly, unable to throw a comeback as the Durmstrang student smirked at the two of them. 

“Well I seem to remember a Hungarian Horntail is more ferocious than your dragon. What was it again? A Norweigean Ridgeback?” Keith asked, tone innocent as Lotor practically snarled at the two of them. Lance snorted from beside him but the sudden sound of a loud roar drew all their attention to the tent flap. 

The audience shrieked, and there was a few seconds of silence before they finally erupted into applause and Allura stepped into the tent with a small scratch on her cheek and nothing more. 

“I don’t think I’d want to get on her bad side,” Lance commented quietly as they were finally allowed back up to the castle, the first task finally complete. Keith shook his head in agreement. 

\--

Keith felt glad to be getting back to normal work without the threat of a task hanging over his shoulder. He’d placed the egg underneath his bed, shoved beneath the clothes that didn’t fit him anymore. He’d been told by Lance that he shouldn’t open it because all it gave him when he tried was a splitting headache. Keith wasn’t exactly eager to find out what Lance meant by that. 

Returning to class, however, meant that the professors were piling on the work once again, and they hadn’t forgotten about the all important exams next year. Keith found himself dragged to the library by Pidge more often than not, and as the weather grew colder during December, Hunk and Lance joined them in their study sessions. 

It was in the third period on Wednesday that both Gryffindor and Slytherin were dragged from Defence Against the Dark Arts and brought into the Great Hall. The tables had been pushed to the side and the staff table stood empty. Someone had excavated what looked like a gramophone from a cupboard, layers of dust fluttering to the floor. 

Once everyone had settled and quieted the Quidditch Coach, Professor Sanda, stepped forward to address the two houses. She was a very serious woman and considered the students gathered with a critical eye. 

“It is a tradition for the host of the Triwizard Tournament to hold a ball,” she said. It is an opportunity to show off the Champions looking their best. It is also a chance for camaraderie and to allow the three schools to blend together and to have fun.” 

“That doesn’t sound fun at all, it sounds the opposite of fun,” Pidge grouched quietly from beside Keith. He could hear Lance snorting at her in laughter from where he sat on Keith’s other side. 

“It will require formal wear, and of course dance partners,” Sanda continued. “You are representing this school, so you will be on your best behaviour.” At this she cast a stern gaze at the group of giggling girls to her right, silencing them efficiently. “The Yule Ball will be held on Christmas Eve and more details will be revealed closer to the date.” 

“That’s in three weeks!” Lance exclaimed in glee once they were finally allowed back to class. 

“Yeah,” Keith murmured, feeling less than excited for this spectacle, but he kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere. 

With the announcement of the Yule Ball it felt as if the whole castle had suddenly drank a love potion. People were asking others to be their dates left, right and centre. One Durmstrang student had even asked a Hufflepuff to the Ball during Potions, although apparently the professor hadn’t been very impressed at being interrupted by a singing invite. 

Pidge had told Keith that she and Hunk would go together if neither got asked by anyone, and he considered doing the same with Lance. The thought caused a blush to burn its way across his cheeks and he found himself with butterflies in his stomach. 

It seemed Lance only had eyes for Allura however, and Keith watched from his table at breakfast as the Gryffindor followed her out from the Great Hall. 

He was momentarily distracted by his owl bringing his mail in the form of a large package that thumped down on top of his plate of toast and eggs. Kosmo preened under Keith’s attention, nipping at a bit of his toast before taking off again. 

“Do you think it's from your mom?” Pidge asked in fascination as Keith tugged the letter free from the box. 

_ This was your father’s. _

_ Treat it well  _

  * _K_



“Yeah,” Keith replied, pulling the box open to inspect the inside. It looked to be a pair of dress robes, but he was interested as to what they looked like. Pidge followed him to his dorm, watching as he slid the box underneath his bed for a proper look later. 

Classes flew by, and by the end of the day Keith’s wrist felt sore. It seemed the other three were as tired as he was, Lance practically listing sideways at dinner. They were allowed to sit together once again because it wasn’t a formal meal. As they sat in silence Keith suddenly realised Lance hadn’t said a word about what happened that morning, the image of Lance sauntering out of the Great Hall embedded in his brain. A spike of anger shot through his chest, and he desperately tried to shove it down. 

Pidge practically dragged him back to the dorms come the end of dinner, desperate to see what was in the package he received that morning. Keith rolled his eyes fondly at his friend’s curiosity but didn’t say a word in protest as they waved goodbye to Hunk and Lance. 

The dorms were empty thankfully, and Keith pulled the box out from under his bed, catching a glimpse of the golden egg as the movement of the box jostled the clothing on top of it. He carefully replaced them before shuffling backwards. 

“Has anyone asked you?” Pidge suddenly asked from where she sat on the edge of Keith’s bed. 

The question catches Keith off guard slightly, as he hasn’t had anyone ask but he shook his head. “No, you?” 

“Nah, but it is bold of you to assume anyone would,” Pidge replied self-deprecatingly. Keith snorted loudly as he peeled back the paper cover on the robes. 

They were black, and would look incredibly bland if it weren’t for the red shirt that accompanied them. Keith gazed at them appreciatively, turning over each piece as Pidge made approving sounds. 

“Very nice, not too shabby,” she commented, holding up the red shirt against Keith’s chest. “You could’ve done worse. You should see what mom was going to get Matt to wear.” 

Keith chuckled quietly, taking back the shirt and gently folding the robes back into their box. 

“Are you ever going to start figuring out that clue?” she suddenly asked as the two of them began to make their way to the library. “It’s been what, two weeks? Shouldn’t you at least be doing some research on golden eggs?” 

Keith side-eyed her doubtfully. “I just haven’t had the motivation to really. The second task is in February so I have loads of time to figure it out.” 

“I’m just saying it might be good to get a headstart,” Pidge replied, sitting at one of the long tables and pulling out her Transfiguration essay. Keith’s eyes widened at the amount of parchment she had covered already, glancing at his measly first paragraph in disappointment. 

“Ooh you doing the essay for Iverson?” Lance’s voice suddenly called out, earning a hiss from Pince as he scurried past her. Hunk followed suit, nervously glancing at the librarian as they sat down at the table. Lance pinned his friend with a curious look. “I haven’t even thought about it. Pidge what did you say about it?” 

“Nope, nuh uh you’re not copying my work again. I got penalised for it and you were the one who snuck it from my bag,” Pidge said, slapping Lance’s wiggling fingers away from her work. “Ask Keith for help.” 

“But Keith’s as useless as I am,” Lance whined as Keith chucked an eraser at his head. “Can’t I just take a quick peek?” 

“No,” she replied, rolling up her parchment and decidedly thumping her astrology textbook onto the table in front of her. “Go work on your own essay.” 

“She’s got you there bud,” Hunk commented, diligently working on his Potions homework. 

“Ugh, fine. Keith come help me research,” Lance said, tugging Keith bodily away from the table. 

\--

The next day brought a layer of snow and festive cheer to the castle. The trees had been put up during the night, and Keith watched in awe as the Professors charmed the decorations to float to the branches during breakfast. He always loved the way Hogwarts looked during Christmas, and he could feel his good mood carrying him through the day. 

He found himself leant against the wall that faced the gorgeous view in the aviary that afternoon, running gentle fingers through Kosmo’s feathers much to the owl's delight. He liked being up here, it was the closest he got to flying without his broom and it helped clear his head. 

He heard the thumping of footsteps and turned his head to see Lance wandering in.“Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were up here,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“No, you’re fine. I was just spending some time with Kosmo,” Keith said. 

“Ah, makes sense. Veronica had to borrow Blue for some Auror thing, not really sure what, so my beautiful girl will be gone for another week,” Lance lamented, wiping an invisible tear from his cheek as Keith laughed. 

A comfortable silence descended over them as Keith went back to watching the snowflakes drift down from the sky. He wrinkled his nose as one landed there, and Lance laughed at his expression. 

“Hey, weird question but has anyone asked you to go to the Yule Ball?” he asked suddenly, his fingers fidgeting. 

“No, but I haven’t really asked anyone,” Keith replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. He was kind of regretting his decision in the matter but he couldn’t go back and change it now. “What about you? Did you ask Allura to be your date?” 

Lance looked at him in surprise, and when Keith met his eyes he saw something flicker in his blue depths that he couldn’t quite identify. He found himself forcing his eyes to stay where they were and not drift down to Lance’s plump, soft lips. 

“Apparently she’s already going with someone else,” Lance told him, breaking the eye contact they’d held to glance at his gloved hands. “She was really nice about it though.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Keith said, gnawing on his bottom lip as he gazed at the horizon. 

“We could, uh, go together?” Lance said, his tone unsure and his voice slightly shaky as Keith glanced at him. Lance nervously ran his fingers through his hair, eyes flickering between Keith and his feet. “Just as friends. If you wanted to, that is.” 

Keith felt something in his stomach grow warm, and a blush rose high on his own cheeks. Some unspoken thing suddenly felt laid out between them, and Keith would replay how Lance’s eyes lit up when he nodded his head in his mind for months. “Yeah, sure,” he said, feeling as if he were floating a few inches off the ground. 

“Okay, great,” Lance said with a laugh, and then he left, waving goodbye to Keith before making his way down the steps of the aviary. Once he was out of sight, Keith buried his head in Kosmo’s feathers, a large stupid grin spreading across his lips. 

\--

Christmas Eve came quicker than Keith expected. Almost everyone in the older years were staying behind for the Yule Ball, and the castle was buzzing with excitement come lunchtime. Even Pidge left early to get dressed, which was surprising. It turns out that a guy from her Charms class asked her to the Ball, and Hunk got asked by Shay in what Keith considered a good move. 

Lance had parted ways with Keith to head to his dorm, sending a wink back at the Slytherin as they parted. Keith ducked his head, his cheeks burning in embarrassment the whole way down to the dungeons. No one had said anything at their pairing, but the look Pidge had given the two of them over breakfast was so smug that Keith stole the pastry sitting innocently on her plate. 

It didn’t take him long to put on the robes, and he was pleasantly surprised when they actually fit him. It turned out his dad had broader shoulders than Keith though as the jacket looked a little bit too big. However with a little adjustment from one of his fellow housemates he was ready to go, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail and his bowtie feeling slightly too tight. Although that could’ve been the nerves. 

As he entered the corridor just outside the Great Hall the noise level that greeted him was invigorating. Everyone was excited to dance and have fun, and it seemed he and Lance weren’t the only Champions pairing up. Lotor and Allura stood next to the door, looking absolutely radiant and ethereal. But it was Lance who really caught Keith’s gaze. 

He hadn’t seen him yet, although that wasn’t for lack of trying as he craned his neck. His robes were a dark navy in colour, the shirt bright white and the bowtie grey. He’d gelled his hair, and Keith suddenly had the thought that he looked very much like the muggle dancer Fred Astaire. He glanced down at his own robes, feeling slightly concerned that he hadn’t dressed up enough. 

However, when he glanced up he locked eyes with Lance and the other’s jaw dropped. Keith didn’t know what Lance was gawking at, but he blushed as he made his way over. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, a small smile gracing his lips. Lance grinned at him, and Keith knew it was one of the genuine ones, not one that he would use when flirting or talking with friends. And Keith felt honoured to be able to see it, wanting to be the one to evoke that smile each time he saw Lance. 

“I guess we’re not the only ones with the idea to partner up,” Lance commented, and Keith chuckled at that. 

“Did you know?” he asked quietly, doubt suddenly barging its way into his head and heart as Lance continued to stare at Allura and Lotor. 

“No,” Lance said with a shake of his head, and he turned to glance down at Keith, something flickering across his blue eyes again. Keith blushed, worried that he’d seen what he was thinking. Lance leaned down so that his mouth was level with Keith’s ear. “But I think I’ve got the prettier partner.” 

Keith’s blush was so bright he was surprised Lance didn’t laugh at it. But they didn’t have time as the four Champions were directed towards the doors of the Great Hall, watching as everyone else filed in before them quickly. Keith spotted Pidge and Hunk, both of whom gave them a thumbs up as they passed. He felt nervous about the Ball, but he felt Lance squeeze his hand in comfort before the great double doors were thrown wide open. 

Keith was suddenly reminded of why he loved magic so much as he stepped into the Great Hall. One of the professors had charmed the trees so that the branches dripped with icicles and the decorations had a light dusting of frost. Large circular tables surrounded the dance floor that looked like it was made of glass. Keith found himself gazing up to the enchanted ceiling, which was covered in a layer of stars, and he was so in awe with the whole room that he didn’t notice the applause that had greeted the Champions as they stepped through the doors. 

He suddenly felt Lance’s hand on his hips, the other coming up to grip his own in the traditional ballroom hold. The butterflies returned with a vengeance, and his eyes locked with Lance’s who gave him an encouraging smile. The music started, and Keith realised he hadn’t even noticed an orchestra. 

As Lance led him around the dance floor Keith got a good look at the students and staff surrounding it, all watching the Champions as they danced. Keith felt like he was on cloud nine, and he heard Lance laugh at his dopey smile.

“You look so gorgeous,” Lance murmured in his ear, and Keith blushed again, slight embarrassment burning within his stomach. 

“Not too bad yourself,” he quipped back, watching over his shoulder as Shiro led his love Adam onto the dance floor to polite applause. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” Keith said, smirking at his partner. 

Lance made an indignant noise, spinning Keith out and back in again. “Rude,” he said, but when Keith glanced up his lips were twitching with a repressed smile. 

The piece finished finally to rapturous applause and Lance gestured for Keith to follow him to a table. It seemed they were placed with the idea of people nibbling on food and heading back to the dance floor as the golden plates usually used for their regular meals were laid out for them. Keith didn’t feel too hungry so he nibbled on the sandwich he’d asked for. 

“Having fun, love birds?” Pidge suddenly asked as she came to sit next to Keith. 

“Aren’t you meant to be dancing?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah but my partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment,” Pidge replied, pointing behind the two of them to where a guy was staring at the Beauxbatons girls. 

“Oh Pidge I’m so sorry,” Lance said, somehow sounding genuinely concerned as his hand came up to stifle a giggle. 

“Ah it’s fine. He kept stepping on my toes anyway,” she said, waving him off. 

“Are we talking about Pidge’s disaster of a dance partner?” Hunk asked and Keith waved hello to Shay as the two of them sat together. “I told you you shouldn’t have gone for the first person who asked you.” 

“I’d rather do that than be the only person without a date,” she replied, nose wrinkling as she watched her partner follow behind the girls with a lost puppy stare. “That’s kinda pathetic.” 

“What’d you expect?” Keith asked, hype-aware as Lance swung his arm over his shoulders. 

“I dunno, maybe a Durmstrang student will come and sweep me off my feet,” she said, dramatically laughing at her own joke. 

“I wouldn’t lose hope yet,” Lance commented, pointing to where a red-robed student kept on looking at their table and glancing away again. He tapped Keith’s shoulder to draw his attention to the guy. Keith’s smile was positively smug as he wiggled his eyebrows at Pidge who whacked his arm with her napkin. 

The rest of the night passed quickly, the music thumping and buzzing within Keith’s very bones as Lance dragged him out to the dance floor and wouldn’t let him sit down again. Keith was certain he’d never smiled so much in his life, his cheeks aching with how wide his grin was. 

It was coming up to midnight when Lance brought him outside to the courtyard, the snowflakes drifting down from the sky in lazy spirals and their breath coming in puffs of white clouds. The layers of soft snow crunched under their shoes and they discovered a bench sheltered by a bending willow alcove. The two of them sat down in comfortable silence, the music seeping through the large double doors to reach their ears. 

“Come here often?” Lance finally broached with a grin, and Keith didn’t know whether it was the punch or the amount of fun he’d had, but his laugh was loud and free as he threw his head back. 

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied, “often with this goofball who seems to think I’m his rival.” 

“Wha-- Goofball?!” Lance exclaimed incredulously, setting Keith off again. “It’s not funny. Keith!” 

He wiped a tear from his cheek, finally calming and suddenly finding Lance’s gaze on him. He cleared his throat, straightening himself from his crooked seating position. He met Lance’s gaze, feeling yet another blush inch its way up his neck. 

“So, uhm,” Lance suddenly began, “I have a bit of a dilemma.” And Keith watched as his hand made an aborted move to run his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah?” he asked, fiddling with the hem of his robe as they watched a couple walk past. 

“I have this friend who I really like, but I don’t think they realise it and I’m wondering how to break it to them?” Lance said in one breath, his eyes gazing towards the star filled sky. 

“Oh,” Keith replied, his stomach dropping and his brow furrowing into a scowl. “Well...if it were me, I would just tell them straight out? I mean it’s not much use just dancing around the problem, you know?” He felt incredibly awkward, glancing at Lance to see his reaction. 

“Just tell them straight out huh?” he asked himself quietly, his bright blue eyes tracing the constellations above them. 

“Yeah,” Keith replied quietly, sitting back and crossing his arms. He sensed Lance suddenly shuffling around until his knee was pressed against Keith’s thigh and his entire attention was on him. 

“Keith, hot-shot,” he said, and Keith could hear the shake in his voice even as he cleared his throat. “I...I like you. Like,  _ like  _ like you. I think I’ve liked you since you pulled off that impossible save in Quidditch during third year. And I didn’t know how to confess to you, and I didn’t know if you liked me back because it seemed the whole mess with You-Know-Who was taking over our entire school and--” 

“Lance,” Keith suddenly exclaimed, grabbing hold of his hands in his own, cradling them close to his chest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he felt like pinching himself to find out if it was real. “I like you too,” he said quietly, and it felt like a massive secret. One for only them in the courtyard of their school with the Ball occurring behind them and snow surrounding them on all sides. 

The kiss shared between them was entirely innocent and yet it seemed to set fireworks off in Keith’s chest. It felt irredeemably  _ right  _ as if it were meant to be, and when they pulled back Lance’s smile was as large as Keith’s. 

\-- 

Their friends knew something was different as soon as the two of them came down for breakfast the next morning. The tables had been put back into their original spots but the icicles were still on the trees. It was a small breakfast as the castle was prepping for Christmas dinner that afternoon, and Lance sat by Keith with his hand pressed against his thigh the whole way through the meal. 

“Alright you two, your sappy looks are gonna make me hurl,” Pidge suddenly cut in, making impressive fake vomiting noises. But Keith could see the smile she gave him as Hunk pestered Lance for details. 

It seemed they weren’t the only ones to be matchmade. Allura and Lotor swanned in and surprisingly sat a few seats down from them, making mooning eyes at each other across the table. It was to much giggling from the Beauxbatons girls and glares from every single male student at the back of Lotor’s head. 

“Well isn’t that a surprise,” Pidge commented with a sly grin, elbowing Hunk in the stomach as they watched the couple from afar. 

“Like you can talk Pidge,” he replied, nodding over to the Durmstrang student who waved shyly when he noticed he had the attention of the whole group. 

Lance gasped, loud enough for the guy to hear. “Not my poor innocent Pidge!” he called out dramatically, earning his own elbow to the gut from Keith. 

“Shut up Lance, we just danced last night that’s all,” Pidge said, blushing as she glanced down at her food. 

“Yeah, right, ‘just danced’,” Lance replied with a scoff before squawking as he became a target for Pidge’s pastry once again.

\--

It was nearing February twenty fourth and Keith still hadn’t figured out the egg clue. He’d opened it to hear the most god awful noise inside and had promptly snapped it shut and shoved it back under his bed. He hadn’t asked Lance about it, feeling as if that would be cheating. But then, he didn’t have to. 

He was getting used to being peppered with kisses, or held within Lance’s arms when they could get away with it but that morning he was suddenly swept into a hug and swung around by him. 

“Lance-- Lance what?! What is it?” Keith asked once he was put down, watching as he danced on the spot. 

“I just figured out what we need to do to get the second clue,” he said, and Keith surreptitiously glanced around to ensure they had no eavesdroppers. The corridor was partially empty, but some first years scurried past the two of them on their way to class. “Meet me tonight by the entrance to the prefects bathroom, at like eleven, okay?” 

“Wait-- Lance, what?” Keith asked, slightly confused as he watched Lance round the corner of the corridor with a cheerful wave. 

Keith felt excitement and adrenaline tingle in his blood as he snuck through the corridors of the castle. He held his golden egg wrapped in a blanket and tucked under his arm, wearing a scruffy robe Shiro had gifted him for Christmas last year and slippers. 

He had to dodge some ghosts on his way to the bathroom but other than that ran into no trouble. He spotted Lance waiting for him at the door, a bag slung over his shoulder and his towel clutched in his hands. 

“What are we  _ doing  _ here?” Keith asked him, keeping his voice at a low register as he approached. 

“You’ll see my hot-headed one,” he replied, brandishing a key and unlocking the door. Keith had always been jealous of the stories he’d heard about the prefect's bathroom, and he took a few seconds to take in the extensive room around him when he stepped over the threshold. 

Lance seemed to know what he was doing, turning the taps and filling the bathtub with water and bubbles. Keith watched as Lance disrobed, wearing a pair of swimming trunks and nothing else. Keith averted his eyes as Lance lowered himself into the water. He found he couldn’t take his eyes off of Lance’s toned shoulders and biceps, the dark colour of his skin gorgeous in the light. 

Keith joined him in the water a few seconds later, self conscious of his pale skin as he tied his hair up in a simple bun so as to not get it wet. He cast his gaze to Lance, noticing how the other glanced down quickly when their eyes connected. 

“So, what now?” Keith asked over the flow of the taps. 

Lance reached for his egg, gripping onto the metal with his slippery fingers. “Now, we submerge and open it,” he replied, doing just that. Nothing happened, and Keith looked at the glowing thing with a raised eyebrow. 

“Give me a minute,” Lance said with a laugh at Keith’s look before he dunked his head underwater. Keith waited for a few seconds before he did the same, dragging his own egg over to himself and almost losing it in the process. 

It fell open easily under the water and Keith finally dunked his head. He could only describe the sound as ethereal, almost otherworldly, and he spotted Lance pointing towards his ear, telling Keith to listen. And then he heard it; 

_ Come seek us where our voices sound  _

_ We cannot sing above the ground  _

_ An hour long you’ll have to look, to recover what we took.  _

It sent chills up his spine, and Keith came up for air, slamming the thing closed with a wary look at it. 

“Am I the only one terrified by that?” Lance suddenly asked, holding his egg away from himself. 

“No,” Keith admitted, tossing his own so that it landed on top of the pile of towels at the edge of the bath with a muted clank. 

“Now that’s just showing off,” Lance complained as Keith smirked at him. Lance seemed to consider doing the same, but thought against it, instead cradling the egg to his chest as he placed it on the pile of cloth he’d set aside. 

“We cannot sing above the ground,” Keith said aloud, rolling the lyrics over in his head. “Is it just me or are you getting tunnel-dweller vibes?” 

“I’m kinda getting mermaid-y vibes not gonna lie,” Lance replied as he sat back into the hot water once again. 

“But where are there mermaids near Hogwarts?” Keith asked. 

“Dude, you sleep under it,” Lance told him with an incredulous raised eyebrow. It took a few seconds for it to finally click but Keith made a noise when it did, tilting his head back slightly. “And then the other lyrics are self explanatory.” 

“Yeah but how’re we going to breath underwater for an hour? Last I checked none of the Champions have gills, unless there’s something you’re not telling me,” Keith said and Lance laughed. 

“I wish,” he commented, running slim fingers over his neck and Keith found his gaze tracing the action. 

He averted his eyes, thinking about anything else than the fact that Lance was almost naked a literal few centimeters away or that he was sliding up to him-- 

“Hey,” Lance whispered in his ear, the line of his body pressed against Keith’s side as the other jolted in surprise. “You look so good with your hair like that.”

Keith could feel his blush burning across his neck and up his cheeks and when he turned his head he caught Lance’s burning blue eyes, his gaze almost hungry. 

“You’ve been teasing me this whole time, Keith,” Lance said, his hands coming up to caress his face with such tenderness Keith felt as if he could cry. “I don’t like being teased.” 

The kiss was searing and full of want. It caught Keith slightly off guard but he surged forward, not caring that their teeth clacked together or that they had to adjust their position to make themselves more comfortable. 

“I’ve wanted you, god I wanted you when you wore that sexy ponytail at the Yule Ball,” Lance groaned, his fingers coming up to tug on Keith’s hair, nails scraping against his scalp with a fervour Keith had never seen from him. 

“Well you have me now, don’t you?” Keith asked cheekily, and Lance practically growled, his tongue slipping in and almost licking behind Keith’s teeth, as if he wanted to taste him. 

“Yeah, you’re all mine hot-stuff,” Lance muttered, his mouth trailing red hot kisses down Keith’s neck. 

\-- 

The day of the second task arrived with an excitement and adrenaline that hadn’t been felt in the first one. Keith mentally went over the incantation for his bubble-head charm, twirling his wand over the knuckles of his fingers as the four Champions waited for their go-ahead. 

Both Pidge and Hunk had been missing from breakfast that morning, so Keith had a sneaky suspicion of what the mermaids had stolen. Stands had been set up along the lake’s edge, and the noise level was practically deafening as the Champions were ordered to their feet. 

Keith cast the bubble-head charm just as the whistle blew, and the second task had begun. The water was freezing cold, but Keith floated for a few seconds to allow his muscles to become used to the extreme temperature of the lake before moving. 

It was murky and Keith had never realised how many types of fish dwelled in the waters that had hovered over his head as he slept for the last six years. He could faintly hear the melody of the mermaid’s song echoing through the currents. It grew slightly louder as he swam forward, kicking his legs and scooping water with his hands. 

He could see the other Champion’s silhouette and turned himself in the direction they were heading. Seaweed rippled beneath him giving the illusion that something was following him. He angled himself higher, wanting to be out of reach of any creatures that might try to snap at his ankles. 

Surprisingly there were no hitches or hiccups and he finally spotted the beginnings of the settlement. Keith was sure Lance was internally fanboying at the mermaids but he felt too focussed on his goal to actually pay attention to his surroundings. He noticed them getting closer to him, their sharp weapons held in their hands with a loose grip but he knew he had to be wary of them. 

He could just make out four forms in the distance, spread eagled and tied at the ankle by a rope. He also spotted the other three Champions surrounding them. One of the mermaids hissed at him as Keith attempted to make a shortcut through the line of houses so it seemed he had to go around. 

He held up his hands in surrender, turning back and propelling himself forward. He noticed that both Allura and Lance had already untied their ‘lost thing’ and Keith spotted Hunks form over Lance’s shoulder and just caught a glimpse of bright orange hair over Allura’s. He waved to them both before casting his eye to his own ‘lost thing’.

Pidge floated in the water, her hair wilder than usual as it waved about in the currents. Her leg was tied down, and she still wore the robes she’d dressed in for class the previous day. Keith glanced down at the lake bed, noticing the sharp rocks that lined it. He dove as quickly as he could, snatching one up and attempting to cut her free. It wouldn’t work however, the rock slipping from his grip and the angle didn’t have enough leverage to sever it. He let the rock drift away, grabbing his wand instead and aiming a spell at the rope. 

He nodded to Lotor as he swam past, holding onto Pidge’s waist and angling himself for the surface. He felt something suddenly grab his ankle, and he desperately tried to dislodge the slippery hand that had grabbed hold of him. Tilting his head down he saw the mermaid that was snarling at him and he maneuvered his other leg to drive it into its face. He felt slightly guilty for the dirty trick but it freed him and allowed him to keep going. 

He spotted Lance struggling halfway up and helpfully slung Hunk’s other arm over his shoulder, the two of them powering the rest of the way up until they broke through the water. Both of their friends came to, spluttering and coughing up almost half of the lake. 

The bubble-head charm burst, and Keith suddenly gained an influx of stimuli which sent his head reeling. He clutched onto Pidge tightly, closing his eyes to center himself. 

“Where are we?” Hunk cried out, the sudden sensory overload startling him as well. “Are we in the lake?!” 

“Whatever was in that pumpkin juice was trippy and I’m never drinking it again,” Pidge said, gripping onto Keith’s shoulders tightly. 

“I don’t think it was the punch Pidge,” Lance commented with a laugh, beginning to gently swim over to the edge. 

They were greeted with the fluffiest towels Keith had ever experienced, and he grabbed hold of his tightly, almost glaring at Lance when he attempted to grab his to dry his hair. 

It was announced later that Lotor was in the lead with Allura following and Lance and Keith coming close in a tie. Keith laughed quietly when Lance aimed a glare at Lotor’s head. The task was finished by the news that the third and final challenge would take place on the twenty fourth of June on the Quidditch pitch. 

\-- 

Spring passed quickly, the days filled with studying and kisses stolen in empty corridors and classrooms. It was easy for their friends to tell something was going on, but they didn’t say anything when Keith and Lance would peel off. 

Keith was glad when nothing of note occurred between the last two tasks. He would tell Lance that it was because he'd had enough excitement for one year, but really, he was keeping a wary eye for any letters or news on the Dark Lord. He hadn’t received anything from his mother, and he was starting to become slightly concerned. 

Shiro didn’t know anything either when Keith asked him, and Professor Kolivan hadn’t said anything to him since the end of the second task.

Summer arrived with a blistering heat wave, the four friends finding any excuse to spend the afternoons draped on the grass. Keith usually found himself leant against the trunk of their tree, Lance’s head nestled in his lap as he soaked up all the sun he could. Exams were taking all the energy they had, and Keith was finding it impossible to study as the days got nicer and the weather became warmer. 

The Hogwarts students watched with jealousy in their eyes as the Beauxbatons and Drumstrang students spent the afternoons outside while they sat in the exam hall. Keith could hear the raucous laughter that rang through the corridors, avoiding Shiro’s gaze during the Defence exam whenever he glanced up to the window. The exams weren’t N.E.W.Ts but it seemed that the professors were treating them with great importance anyway. 

They hadn’t been told anything about the third task apart from the date, so it was a surprise when two weeks before it was meant to occur hedgerows began to grow on the Quidditch Pitch. They grew to twice Keith’s size and it was Lance who realised it was a maze. 

They were led down to the Quidditch Pitches early, given time to situate themselves before the rest of the students and staff congregated to watch. 

“Welcome to the third task,” Professor Kolivan announced to the gathered students, his voice amplified by his wand pressed to his throat. They sat in raised stands, given a good view of the maze as the Champions stood at the ready. “The way to win is simple, make your way through this maze defeating any obstacles that come between you and the Triwizard Cup in the middle.” 

Keith glanced at Lance, taking in his shaking hands and determined gaze. “Don’t die,” he said quietly, reaching a hand to grab hold of his. 

“Don’t get captured,” Lance replied with a smirk, but Keith could see the concern in his blue eyes. 

“The challenge will begin with each Champion entering by order of scoreboard. You are to send sparks from your wand if you are in need of assistance, and the only way to win is to touch the cup in the middle,” Professor Kolivan explained. “If there’s no questions, we will begin with Lotor of Durmstrang entering the maze.” 

Keith and Lance watched as the other two disappeared into the darkness, waiting anxiously to be allowed inside. With loud applause at their backs the green of the hedgerows surrounded them, and everything fell silent. They kept each other close, gripping the others hands as they cautiously turned corners and bends, watching for any signs of trouble. 

Something rustled in front of them and they stopped, staying as silent as they could. They watched as a blast-ended skrewt came into view, pacing back and forth across the pathway. 

Carefully and quietly the two of them stepped back to take a different turn, avoiding the skrewt all together. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ ,” they suddenly heard, and they sped up their pace until they came into view of Allura battling what looked like a Dementor, the tip of her wand burning bright as she tried to push it back. 

“It’s a boggart!” Lance suddenly exclaimed. 

“How do you know?!” Keith asked, his shoulders tense as he tried to inch away from the cloaked figure. 

“Just trust me,” Lance said, aiming his wand for the Dementor. “ _ Riddikulus _ ,” he called, and suddenly the Demementor transformed into a tiny mouse, the little thing scurrying into the underbrush. 

“Thank you,” Allura said gratefully before going down the pathway Keith and Lance had just come from. 

They hadn’t come up against any trouble in a while until Lotor suddenly stepped out from behind the maze wall. His smile was leering, and he held his wand up to the two of them. 

“Sorry about this boys,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “ _ Cruic-- _ ” 

“ _ Stupefy _ !” Keith cried out, the flash of green light hitting Lotor dead on and sending him backwards. 

“Keith!” Lance exclaimed, hurrying over to the other Champion to check him over. 

“He’s fine, we just need to make sure someone comes to collect him,” he replied, tying him up with another spell and sending red sparks into the air in quick succession. “Come on, we need to find that cup.” 

“Lotor was about to use an Unforgivable Curse,” Lance muttered once they were further away from the Durmstrang student. “He’s not allowed to use an Unforgivable, it’s against the  _ law _ .” 

“Why do you think I got us out of there? It’s obvious he’s not who he says he is so lets find that cup and get the hell out of here,” Keith replied, using the  _ point-me  _ spell to show the way they needed to go. 

It didn’t take much longer for them to find it, but the two of them halted at the sight of it. 

“So,” Lance began, his voice no more than a quiet murmur, “who grabs it first?” 

“You,” Keith said without hesitation. “You need the money, your  _ family  _ needs it Lance. I don’t, I wasn’t the one who wanted to enter the Triwizard Tournament.” 

“But that’s the point, you were forced into it. You didn’t want the fame or the glory or the gold. So you should take it,” Lance replied, and Keith swung his head around, ready to argue when he saw the look in Lance’s eyes. He was being selfless, putting Keith’s situation over his family's need for the money. Keith had never felt more infatuated with another human being before then. 

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air and letting it out again. “We’ll do it together. We’ll split the money and both be the winners,” Keith said, smiling at Lance. 

“Together,” he replied with a nod of his head, the two of them stepping forward. 

They’d barely touched the cup before Keith felt a tug at his navel and his feet leaving the ground. 

The two of them landed with a thump, teetering slightly as the cup fell off to the side. It was pitch black, and Keith could smell rain in the air. 

“Where are we?” Lance asked quietly, keeping his hand in Keith’s for fear of the two losing each other. “I can’t see a thing.” 

Keith didn’t reply, keeping a tight grip on his wand with his free hand, his eyes desperately trying to spot something he recognised. “ _ Lumos _ ,” he said, the light from his wand illuminating a small part of the area around him. He could just make out the branches of trees, and taking small steps revealed mud under his feet. But he didn’t get time to get a better look.

“How nice of you to join us,” a voice suddenly said, the timbre and tone sending shivers up Keith’s spine. Ropes flew out from the darkness, bounding the two of them tight and sending them crashing to the floor. Keith felt his head crack against the ground, and he hissed in pain. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Pity we had to meet in such a way,” the voice said again, and the thud of a footstep reverberated on the ground. Keith glanced at Lance, catching his terrified blue eyes with his own determined gaze. 

The figure was terrifying, his eyes glowing amber and his hulking silhouette intimidating in the darkness. He had an unnatural aura surrounding his body and Keith could just make out the scent of quintessence. His scarred features were incredibly familiar and Keith found himself frozen in the presence of Lord Zarkon. 

Zarkon suddenly flicked his wrist, levitating Keith off the floor slowly. He stepped forward until the two of them faced each other, and Keith tried to keep his breathing level and his gaze centred on Zarkon. 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” the Dark Lord murmured, his smile almost polite, but Keith could see it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“This is the son of the woman who stole our secrets,” Zarkon suddenly said, leaving Keith hovering just above the ground as he paced the perimeter of the clearing. Keith could make out the trunks of trees just a few meters away, the light of his wand that lay on the ground illuminating the followers that had somehow circled them. 

“You all know her as Krolia,” Zarkon continued, and Keith could practically feel the blood draining from his face. His heart began to thump in his ears and he clenched his fists in anger as the group surrounding them suddenly hissed and muttered. 

“Yes, she who infiltrated our ranks and lied her way to a position of power,” Zarkon said, his voice seeping in rage and bitterness. “She, who remains on the run and refuses to take the punishment of her crimes against us.” 

The group shouted in agreement, the sound ringing through the clearing, and Keith desperately glanced down to Lance. They had to get out. 

“Well, I believe we have an incentive now,” Zarkon commented, his gaze harsh as someone stepped out from the circle of followers. Keith couldn’t get a good look at them as Zarkon filled his vision. “Her son...Keith Kogane.” 

Keith squirmed slightly, testing the ropes that were wrapped around his arms. He didn’t dare draw any attention to Lance, so he kept his determined scowl on Zarkon. 

“I sent a summons to our dear traitor, but I believe we should encourage her a bit more, don’t you?” he asked, to another murmur of agreement. Keith watched as he took a few steps back, drawing his wand from his sleeve and aiming at him. 

“ _ Crucio _ ,” he intoned, and pain filled Keith’s nerves. It felt like his skin was on fire, and he threw his head back to scream loudly, wriggling in his confinements. 

He could barely make out Lance shouting for Zarkon to stop, the pain so intense that all other senses had somehow cut out. It stopped finally, and Keith could hear his heart in his ears, his breathing quick and sharp and the fire still dancing beneath his skin. He hung his head, sweat dripping down his neck and he didn’t notice he’d been released from his binds until he dropped to the ground. 

Through bleary eyes, he watched as flashes of light suddenly filled the clearing and the blurry outline of Lance hovered above him. He could just make out the sound of his voices, he sounded desperate, as if begging for something but Keith couldn’t be quite sure what. 

Everything sounded muffled, as if he were underwater, and his skin felt numb. His eyelids were so heavy - like lead - and the last of his energy waned as they slipped closed. 

\-- 

He came to in a comfortable bed, and a head of brown hair next to his elbow. He wiggled his toes and squeezed his fingers, noticing that another set was wrapped around his. The figure beside him stirred, and Lance sat up from his slumped position. 

“Keith!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his neck carefully and holding him close. Keith closed his eyes, breathing in Lance’s scent, grateful to see him safe. 

“Don’t do that again!” Lance suddenly said, leaning back to slap Keith’s arm, although it wasn’t as harsh as he was expecting. “You scared me you ass.” 

“Sorry?” Keith said, unsure about what he did but wanting to wipe that devastated look off Lance’s face. 

“Your mom came to rescue us, it seems Zarkon is good at sending messages,” Lance said, his laugh bitter and upset. 

“Is she okay? Are  _ you  _ okay?!” Keith asked, his eyes looking up and down to make sure Lance wasn’t hurt as his mind slipped free from the last dregs of sleep . 

“You’re asking  _ me  _ that? You’re the one in the hospital bed!” Lance practically shouted. 

Keith spluttered for a few seconds, unsure of how to answer that. He didn’t need to though as Lance grabbed him and tugged him into a searing kiss. 

“Promise you won’t do that again?” he asked, expression serious, yet concerned when he pulled back again. Keith nodded, tugging on Lance’s arm to get him up onto the bed. 

That’s where Krolia found them half an hour later; asleep and wrapped in each other’s arms. She found herself smiling at the two of them, pleased her boy had found someone to spend his life with. She left them though, pulling the partition closed to give the two some privacy. 

Although the year had been encompassed by the Triwizard Tournament, the fact that Zarkon had been found, and that his  _ son  _ Lotor was discovered guilty of working with him overshadowed Lance and Keith’s win. They didn’t mind though, they enjoyed being in the background, allowing someone else to take the ‘spotlight’ as they quietly celebrated their win. 


	2. A life lived in fear is a life half lived - Strictly Ballroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a pause where he had to flip over the record and the studio was filled with silence. Keith could hear his heavy breathing and his heart thumping in his ears but the sound of someone clearing their throat quietly broke through the white noise. 
> 
> The guy from the locker room stood in the doorway and Keith could see his nervous fingers, but when he locked gazes with him he could see inspiration in his blue eyes. 
> 
> “S-Sorry, again, it’s just,” the guy began, glancing down at the floor. Keith watched as he pulled back his shoulders and steeled his expression, the guy looking at him in determination. “I wanna dance with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's me, again. 
> 
> I've always wanted to write Klance in a dance setting but I'd never had enough know how of the techniques and training and competitions etc to manage it. So, here's my attempt and I hope you all like it. 
> 
> Please do let me know what you thought of this with a comment or a kudos! And I hope you're all staying happy, safe and sane <3

Keith Kogane often thought of dancing as his release, his passion and his life. He’d never thought he’d be picked up by the largest ballroom dance coach in all of Sydney. Hell, as a kid from Texas who danced for fun he’d never expect he’d be living in Australia, let alone competing. 

However, over the past couple of months, something happened. He’d lost his drive, his passion for something he’d adored since he was a kid. He found the routines mundane and dull. There were no risks, no excitement. And his partner was driving him up the wall.

He would never say the real reason  _ why  _ he did those moves during the competition, always going for the idea that he wanted to, keeping up his image of an asshole to the camera. He was always going to keep that drive, that  _ fire  _ for himself. That is, until Lance came along. 

\-- 

The training room was filled with noise as the late morning Latin class began. Keith could hear their shoes against the polished wood floor from where he stood, arms crossed and desperately trying to keep his annoyance in check. 

His dance partner, Nyma, paced the length of the room with her hands on her hips. She spoke a mile a minute, railing on him about his stupid actions during the competition and Keith barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. He found it pitiful how some of them were only here for the competitions, for the fame and the prizes that came with it. And it turned out Nyma was one of those people. 

“Why did you  _ do  _ that Keith? I know we were boxed in but there was a perfectly logical way to get around it rather than going against the rules,” she said, and Keith could hear the accusation in her tone. 

“Well  _ I  _ didn’t see any other way. And I’m the leader here, so it was a good thing I got us out of there,” Keith retorted, voice layered in anger and his brain-to-mouth filter non-existent. 

“Oh yes,  _ you’re  _ the man so you have to lead. And I’m just your piece of arm candy,” Nyma cried out suddenly, throwing back her own frustration at Keith and startling him. “Well you know what? Now you have no arm candy because  _ I quit _ .” 

Keith followed her out of the room, watching as the learners parted for her. Quick as a whip he grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her back and into hold once again. He’d find it funny later how the song conveniently turned over at that second, allowing Keith to begin leading Nyma around the dance floor much to the students’ delight, but for now he didn’t think about it. 

A gentle and happy smile graced Nyma’s lips as Keith didn’t break away to do his own routine, sticking to what she called ‘protocol’ as they glided around the room. 

“See,” she said, “isn’t this better than those flashy moves?” 

Something snapped within Keith, something that sent that burning ember he usually had in his stomach into an inferno and he spun Nyma out and back in before throwing himself into anything he felt like. It made him feel inspired and free as he let his feet leave the floor in flashy jumps, spinning around his partner as she screamed at him to stop. 

“I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” she shouted as Keith spun her back towards him, the music coming to a swift stop. 

“What  _ do  _ you want?” he exclaimed. 

“What do I  _ want?  _ I’ll tell you what I want,” she cried, her cheeks bright red from exertion and anger. “I want Rolo Stone to walk right in here and say ‘Pam Shorts broke  _ both  _ her legs, and I wanna dance with you!’” 

A deadly silence descended over the room as the two dancers glared at each other. Neither of them moved until the doors suddenly banged open, a tall guy sweeping in. He came to a stop at Nyma, gently taking one of her hands in his as he looked her straight in the eyes. 

“Pam Shorts broke both her legs, and I wanna dance with you,” he said, and Nyma practically swooned. Keith felt almost tempted to take her back out of spite, but he stood stock still, watching as the two of them practically floated out of the dance studio. It almost felt like a scene in a movie, and no one said a word as the door to the studio swung shut. 

Keith felt rooted to the floor, glaring at the students in embarrassment. He had no one to blame but himself for that show, and he could feel his neck turning red. He spun on his heel suddenly, determined to pack up his things and spend the rest of the day at home when the doors to the Director’s office opened. 

“Keith,” Allura called, “may I have a word?” Her stern gaze allowed no questioning as she beckoned him inside, holding the door open to let him past. As it slid closed Keith could make out the sounds of the class starting up again, Shiro calling out advice over the sound of the music. 

“Sit,” Allura said, her tone calm as she rounded the desk that sat in the middle of the office. Keith found himself obeying, keeping his eyes firmly on his fingers. Allura had been the one to invite him to Australia. A travelling dancer herself at the time, she’d spotted him during a minor competition in Austin and had promptly handed him her card. He’d been fifteen at the time, and as he sat before her now he realised he didn’t want the last four years to go spiralling down the drain because of one stupid, reckless move. 

“Keith, what happened out there wasn’t very professional,” Allura began, and Keith could feel the blush deepening around his neck. “And we’ve trained you to be a professional dancer, one with poise and etiquette.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied, glancing up at her with genuine regret in his gaze. 

“I realise what happened the other day wasn’t exactly expected, but as Nyma said there are other ways to get yourself out of that predicament. What happens if it’s not a one time thing, what will you do then?” she asked him, leaning forward to cross her arms on the table top. 

“I don’t know,” Keith said quietly, a bottomless pit opening in his stomach as Allura sighed. 

“Alright, you know that Nationals are coming up, and we want you on the team representing this studio. However you cannot do that without a partner. So,” she said, and this time she pinned him with her most intimidating stare. “You have to find a new one within the next week if you’re meaning to qualify. Come to me by Friday with your application form and partner and we’ll see about forgetting this little...mishap.” 

Keith found himself stewing in the locker room a few minutes later, rolling the idea of finding a new partner around in his head. He wouldn’t even know where to start looking as Shiro was the one to practically set both him and Nyma up when Keith arrived in Sydney. He didn’t want to have Shiro deal with yet another one of his fuckups. 

The sudden clang of metal behind him drew Keith from his thoughts and he turned to find one of Latin dance students floundering in the doorway. 

“Sorry,” he said, and Keith could make out a dusting of red on his cheeks. “I didn’t realise someone else was already in here.” 

“You’re fine,” Keith said, standing from the bench and grabbing for his ballroom shoes as he went. “I was just leaving anyway.” And he gently shouldered passed the guy, avoiding his bright blue gaze that seemed to almost look  _ through  _ Keith.

The studio was empty to Keith’s delight, and he made his way over to the radio set up in the corner, grabbing one of the many records on the shelves. They had an audio jack for phones as well, and CDs on the other side of the small alcove but Keith found that he danced best with the sound of an old record playing. 

He tossed his jumper off to the side, exposing the red tank top he wore underneath and pulled his hair into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. The opening lyrics of  _ Help!  _ blasted through the speakers, the music loud and thumping through Keith’s bones. He threw himself into a Jive, his mind racing with kick-ball changes, flicks and jumps as he swung around the room. 

He could feel his passion come alive as a warm fire in his chest, sweat beading on his brow as he worked himself hard. The song changed, going instead to  _ Love Me Do _ , the entire album on shuffle, and Keith changed his speed and the tone of his dancing, allowing his feet to lead him and his mind to shut off. 

It changed once again,  _ I Feel Fine  _ booming through the speakers, and Keith found himself pouring the anger and resentment he felt for Nyma into his movements. And he continued much like this through The Beatles album, allowing himself to feel everything and anything that came to him. 

Keith stared at him, the words echoing in the dance studio for a few seconds. He realised he was still holding the record in his hands, and he turned back to the player. There was a pause where he had to flip over the record and the studio was filled with silence. Keith could hear his heavy breathing and his heart thumping in his ears but the sound of someone clearing their throat quietly broke through the white noise. 

The guy from the locker room stood in the doorway and Keith could see his nervous fingers, but when he locked gazes with him he could see inspiration in his blue eyes. 

“S-Sorry, again, it’s just,” the guy began, glancing down at the floor. Keith watched as he pulled back his shoulders and steeled his expression, the guy looking at him in determination. “I wanna dance with you.” 

He held up his hands in the traditional ballroom hold, gesturing with his head for the guy to come and join him. When their palms connected, it felt like a live wire had zapped between them, and the two of them began to step their way through an improvised routine,  _ Eleanor Rigby  _ leading them around the studio. 

Keith found himself entranced by the guy, and he didn’t even know his name. He’d never experienced this sort of connection with someone in such a short amount of time. He was intently aware of every part of them that glanced off each other, of how their hands switched holds almost instinctively. His eyes were the brightest blue he’d ever seen, and Keith felt as if he couldn’t look away. 

The entire dance felt as if it had lasted hours, but only about a minute in time had passed. The song finished but Keith felt as if he couldn’t let go, he wanted to stay in this room with this boy who somehow just came into Keith’s life. 

However, the other stepped away, and Keith smiled at him. “Thanks for that,” he said, trying to keep his excitement from bubbling over. The other’s expression fell, and Keith felt as if he’d said something wrong. 

“No problem,” he said, “I’ll just...go then.” 

“Wait!” Keith exclaimed, turning the other around by his shoulder gently. “I, uh, I’d like to do that again. If you’d like that is. It’s fine if you don’t.” He found himself thinking that wasn’t enough, that it felt like he was asking the other to dance for fun. 

“In fact,” he suddenly broached, “I’m kinda looking for a new partner. I guess you’d know that already though because of what happened this morning,” he trailed off awkwardly, feeling yet another blush inch up his neck. “So uh, would you like to be my partner?” 

“You’re serious?” the other asked, his brows raised in what Keith could only describe as a surprised look. “You’re not gonna turn around tomorrow and act like this never happened? ‘Cause trust me I’ve been burned before.” 

Keith shook his head, knowing that he wanted to dance with this guy in Nationals. They just had a connection Keith couldn’t give up. The other seemed to consider it, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, drawing Keith’s gaze to the motion. 

He knew he was gay, he’d known since he was about eight wandering around their tiny shack in the middle of the desert wearing his mother’s clothes and shoes. He knew when he started dancing and found it was the only way for him to get out the anger he felt at being beaten down by seemingly everyone he met. So he knew when he took in the other’s form fully - his broad shoulders, tanned skin and gorgeous fluffy brown hair - that he’d fall hard and fast for this boy. 

He held out his hand towards the other with a determined gaze, waiting for him to take his hand. “Hi,” he said when he finally did, gripping his hand tightly, “I’m Keith, nice to meet you partner.” 

“Lance,” the other said with a sly grin, “good to be here, partner.” 

\-- 

Nationals were a chance for every dance studio in the country to showcase their best and brightest. Often it went on for a week and thousands of dancers competed in each contest. Keith and Lance had about three months until their competition; the over eighteens Latin final. And Keith had no idea what to do for a routine. 

He spent most of the rehearsals with Lance organizing moves they could bring out on the fly in case anything like what happened with Nyma actually occurred. He could tell Lance was getting antsy though, wanting to do some proper dancing. And Keith was doing everything in his power to come up with  _ something  _ so they could get started. 

He’d spend hours at home in his small flat trying to figure out routines, but he didn’t quite know Lance’s style to be able to choreograph anything.

And Shiro was of no help when Keith tried to ask him about it over supper one night. He could see Adam giving him sympathetic looks from where he stood over the stove, the man rolling his eyes when his fiance gave vague ideas as to what Keith could do. 

“How about you cook and Adam gives me ideas ‘cause you’re not helping,” Keith said, crossing his arms in a sulk as Shiro laughed. 

“Keith you know the rules, Shiro is not allowed  _ near  _ the kitchen unless you want the whole apartment block to blow up,” Adam quipped, pointing at him with the wooden spoon. “And anyway, you know I don’t know a thing about dancing so I wouldn’t be able to help you.” 

Keith groaned long and loud, his head thumping against the wooden table at the same time that Shiro and Adam high fived. 

Keith made it into the studio with his kit bag, ready for another day of basics when he suddenly heard something he hadn’t before. It sounded interesting and intense. The music didn’t have any lyrics, and it was composed mainly of what sounded like guitars and trumpets. It got louder the closer Keith got to the doorway, the bass almost reverberating in his chest. 

Lance was the only one in the studio, facing the mirror dressed in his shorts and a loose t-shirt. He was dancing, but Keith had never seen him dancing as he was then. It was incredibly intense, with wide shapes and flamboyant steps that had Keith immediately hooked. 

He strode forward once the music faded out, startling Lance out of his ending stance. 

“What was that?!” Keith asked, unable to keep his tone from betraying his excitement. 

“The Paso Doble,” Lance replied. “It’s a style of dance from Spain. My Pops taught it to me.” 

Keith rolled the words over in his mouth, his mind almost going a mile a minute. “Lance, you’re a  _ genius _ !” he exclaimed, slapping his partner’s shoulder lightly. “Can you teach me?” 

Lance laughed, tilting his head back and clutching his stomach. Keith furrowed his brows in confusion, watching as Lance wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. He finally realised Keith wasn’t chuckling too, and his laughter died very quickly. 

“Wait, you’re  _ not  _ joking?” he asked, astonishment colouring his tone.

“No, I actually was just joking about learning a whole new style of dance. Of  _ course  _ I’m serious! I’ve been stuck on what to do for Nationals because Nyma was always the one to decide which style we’d choreograph,” Keith replied, placing his kit bag onto the bench. 

“So you really want to learn the Paso Doble?” Lance asked, his expression still doubtful as Keith tied up his hair. 

“Lance, I  _ really  _ want to learn the Paso Doble,” he replied, his tone seeped determination as he placed his hands on his hips. 

Lance’s jaw almost seemed to drop in surprise as Keith locked his eyes with Lance’s, the atmosphere between them crackling with something neither of them could describe. And Lance’s expression turned into one that did something to Keith’s stomach, the drive and fire fluttering in his gut as Lance stepped forward to the stereo, queuing the music once more. 

\-- 

Keith never realised how hard the Paso Doble would be. Like the concept of the dance, it felt like he was wrestling with a bull, the style difficult to grasp even for a professional like Keith. Lance was a very strict teacher, concentrating on the shapes that Keith would have to create with his arms and the multiple ways of stepping. Often Keith would end up on the wrong foot, and Lance wouldn’t hesitate to send him back to the top of the room to start again. 

It seemed Lance wasn’t eager to start with a routine just yet, doing as Keith had with getting the basics down and building a foundation from there. It did mean long gruelling hours for the first week but it paid off when he finally  _ did  _ move on to the routine. 

“Looks like it’s going well in here,” Allura called out from the door, taking in the scene before her. Keith lay spread-eagle on the floor, his shirt sticking to his back from sweat and his breath coming in gasps. He’d never been defeated by a dance before, but this must be what it felt like. Lance, meanwhile, looked like they hadn’t been working for most of the morning, stood checking his phone. 

“I thought  _ I’d  _ be the teacher,” Keith said to her, gazing up at the ceiling as he attempted to catch his breath. 

“Oh come on it’s not that bad,” Lance said, placing his phone down and making his way over to Keith. “Up. Come on we need to get that turn right.” 

Allura laughed as Keith was pulled from his feet with a groan, every single muscle in his body screaming for release. She watched from the sidelines as Lance led Keith through the turn again, surprised at the confidence Lance held in his teaching. 

“I might have to get  _ you  _ to take a class Lance,” she commented as she left, turning away before she could see the stunned look that was aimed at her head. She  _ did  _ hear Keith’s laughter, and she felt her own smile grow over her lips, glad to hear he was having fun. 

When it drew later and hotter in the evening Keith dragged Lance out to the roof of the studio, tugging a portable radio out from a cupboard and bringing it with them. No one but Allura and Keith knew of the roof and how nice it was to dance there with the wind rushing past you. The skyline of Sydney laid stretched out before the two of them, the setting sun splitting the sky into multiple colours. 

He could see that Lance was entranced, gazing at the view as Keith organised the music for the two of them. 

“It’s amazing,” Lance breathed, and Keith smiled at him, watching as the sunlight reflected off of his beautiful blue eyes, And wasn’t that a thought; already it was a week into their partnership and Keith already thought Lance was beautiful. He didn’t dare say anything as he was afraid it would ruin the friendship they already had. 

“I used to come up here every night. Helped me calm down,” Keith told him, taking a seat on the ledge, dangling his legs over the street much to Lance’s protests. “Even Shiro doesn’t know about this place.” 

“Shiro’s your brother, right?” Lance asked, sitting next to Keith. 

“Yeah, he came with me to Australia when Allura scouted me. It wasn’t actually that hard to choose to move,” he explained, keeping his eyes on the sunset as he spoke. “My dad had just past, and mom was nowhere to be found so both Shiro and I packed our stuff and left.” 

He realised he’d never told Nyma about this stuff, the two of them thinking it best to leave their ‘baggage’ outside the dance studio. It made for a very tense dance relationship. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, his tone completely genuine. 

Keith shrugged, “It’s fine, happened a long time ago. What about you?” 

“Me? Oh, well most of my family moved out here with me because Australia has so many opportunities. My Abuela and Abuelo were the only ones to stay behind, although we skype with them every week and we try to get over to them when we can,” Lance said, a gentle smile illuminating his features. “You should actually come and meet them, I’m sure my pops would love to help with the Paso Doble.” 

Keith nodded, feeling like a boyfriend who was just invited to meet his partner’s parents, his cheeks almost aflame. 

“That is what we’re gonna do!” Lance exclaimed, climbing to his feet enthusiastically. “We’ll go see my family and they’ll know how to help us with the Paso Doble.” 

“Alright, but first let’s put some more practise in, yeah?” Keith asked, laughing as he too stood up and turned on the stereo. They didn’t concentrate on their routine as they swung around the rooftop, instead going for whatever they felt as the CD they’d put in played through its tracklist. And as they finished an improvised Charleston Keith had a thought; he’d never felt so free. 

\--

It turned out that Keith was going to meet the McClains sooner than he thought. It had been a month since Lance had asked Keith to dance with him, and about three weeks into learning the Paso Doble when Lance strode into the dance studio with a large smile on his face. 

Keith, who was sat on the floor working through his stretches, glanced up with a confused expression. “You look happy this morning. What happened? Did a cute girl flirt with you on the way up?” 

“Ha, I wish!” Lance replied with a laugh, placing his bag down in the corner. “You, my grumpy dance partner, are coming to mine tonight for some food.” 

Keith rolled his neck, stretching his legs out straight and pressing his chest against his thighs in an impressive stretch. “And they’re ok with that?” he asked, his voice muffled by his tracksuit trousers. He suddenly felt glad for the cover as he felt butterflies in his stomach and his ears burn slightly. 

“Yeah, they’ve been begging to meet you,” Lance replied, joining in the stretches. “Well, I think Rachel - my sister - has been begging to meet you just to use it against me, but the others are excited!” 

The thought of meeting Lance’s family weighed on Keith’s mind for most of the rehearsal, and he found it hard to concentrate on the steps and keeping his shape while Lance led him around the dance floor. They left the studio that evening just as the sun began to set. It felt strange because the two of them usually stayed longer, locking up the building and walking home under the light of the stars. 

But it gave Keith time to get changed, and Lance commanded him to meet at the studio so that they could walk together. Keith didn’t know what to wear, would he have to dress in something formal? Would a t-shirt be considered rude? He debated it in the shower, watching the water to sluice off all of the sweat from the day of training and send it down the drain. 

He finally decided to wear his favourite jeans, a navy t-shirt, combat boots and his leather jacket. He looped a hair tie over his wrist just in case but forwent putting on his leather gloves. He debated on whether to buy anything to say thank you for having him for dinner as he passed his local grocery store. He ducked in quickly, paid for the potted plant he’d seen and left, tucking the flower under his arm. 

He began to doubt his choice as he got closer to the studio, spotting Lance standing beneath a street lamp. When he glanced up from his phone however, Lance didn’t laugh, instead he smiled wide at Keith’s small house gift. 

“I hope it’s not too much?” he asked awkwardly, holding the plant up sheepishly. Lance laughed quietly, his blue eyes softening at Keith’s gift. 

“No, it’s not too much. You better watch it though, Mama might just adopt you on the spot,” he replied with a cheeky grin, grabbing hold of Keith’s arm to drag him along the footpath. 

The McClain household was situated right next to a train station, the noise of the engines loud as they passed by. It was a modest two storey building, the yard out the front covered in children's toys and the windows bedecked with flower pots. Keith glanced down at his pathetic excuse of a plant, now sorely regretting buying it. 

Lance didn’t even bother knocking, instead throwing the door open and shouting into the depths of the house in what Keith suddenly realised was Spanish. 

“I didn’t realise you were bilingual,” he commented, smiling kindly at Lance’s embarrassed blush. 

“Yeah well I don’t really speak Spanish outside the house,” he said. “And besides it’s not like anyone would understand me anyway.” 

Keith nodded. “I get it. I only speak Korean with Shiro, and even then, his is rudimentary. But I guess he could say the same about my Japanese,” he said with a laugh, catching Lance’s surprised look. 

“What?” Keith asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Nothing. It’s just that you have a nice laugh,” Lance replied. 

Lance was right in the fact that his mother wanted to adopt Keith on the spot, but Keith didn’t know that as Maria said so in Spanish to Lance and when Keith asked the other didn’t reply at all, only laughing louder. It seemed Lance’s whole family had come for dinner, and Keith made it his job to remember everyone’s names. His plant was put in the pride of place on the kitchen window when everyone sat down to eat, and the conversation suddenly turned to their dance competition. 

“Lance tells me you’re learning the Paso Doble,” Lance’s father said over the rim of his glass. 

“Pops don’t start. Keith is actually pretty good. Way better than I am at the Samba,” Lance commented from where he sat beside Keith, catching the other ducking his head in embarrassment. “You know he’s a professional dancer.” 

“Yes Lance, we know. It’s all you can talk about,” Veronica commented, and Lance stuck out his tongue in reply. “Charming,” she retorted. 

“How’re you doing with the Paso Doble Keith? It must be difficult to learn a completely new style in the small amount of time you have,” Lance’s mom asked, piling Keith’s plate with more food than he needed. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty difficult but it’s a really interesting dance and I like the challenge,” Keith replied. “And I’m kinda used to learning different styles on the fly. We had to once learn the American Smooth in about two months for a local competition.” 

The conversation continued in much the same way, the room filled with friendly laughter and some strange looks from Veronica as she glanced between the two dance partners. Keith glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing the knowing look she was aiming his way, and he could feel his cheeks turning red. 

“Let’s see this Paso Doble then,” Lance’s father suddenly called out, and everyone stood from the table. Keith was practically dragged out of his seat and out into the cool evening air by Lance. He recognised the look of a dance floor even if it was unpolished and slightly damp from the rain that fell during the day. 

“We’re really doing this?” Keith asked Lance incredulously. “Now?!” 

“Yeah, you okay with that?” Lance asked, his blue eyes filled with concern as he took in Keith’s nervous expression. “It’s just the family, they’ll help with technique. Pops used to be a professional back in the day, he knows what he’s doing.” 

Keith had always known that if he’d ever dance before people he knew and admired that he’d be a nervous wreck. He was fine in front of an audience because it was just a sea of strangers and he didn’t care what they thought of his skills and technique. But he could feel his nerves burning through his sternum and his hands becoming clammy with sweat. Lance gave him an encouraging look, a small kind smile on his lips as the two faced each other. 

They moved when the music began, stepping through the sequences and switching holds and roles as it developed. Keith could see Lance’s father and mother critically watching, unable to discern their expressions as the routine continued. 

When they finished Keith was breathing heavily, a line of sweat dripping down his back. He was glad he’d put his hair up before they’d started. Both of them glanced at Lance's father, watching with bated breath as he stood from his seat. 

“It’s good!” he said kindly, and the two partners smiled at each other. “But, you need to feel more  _ passion _ . The Paso Doble, as I see it, is all about control. One of you is the matador, the other is the red cape. There is always one in control of the other. Because of your pairing, and the way you’ve choreographed it, you both have a chance to play one or both of those roles.” 

Keith nodded in understanding and Lance’s father pulled his mother from her seat. Lance tugged Keith to the side so that they could watch the two dance. The passion between them was obvious, the chemistry almost palpable as they swung around the floor. But the two of them couldn’t keep a straight face, and as they finished in a dramatic stance the rest of the family burst out laughing. 

“Not my best go at it, but you get the picture, right?” he said once they’d all calmed and Keith nodded, eager to get back into the studio the next day. 

He didn’t notice Lance having a small chat with his mother. But it was clear to her that her boy had found his match, his blue eyes watching with adoration as Keith avidly chatted about technique with his father. 

\-- 

“We might have a slight problem,” Allura said a few days later. The two of them had been rehearsing voraciously, sometimes staying in the studio well into the night. They had been taking a well deserved break when Allura stepped into the studio. 

“What’s up?” Keith asked from where he sat on the bench. The cool towel against the back of his neck was refreshing and he hadn’t checked the outside temperature in a while but he was dreading what he would see. 

“Apparently the board does not consider the Paso Doble a suitable Latin dance,” she told them, holding up a sheet of paper. “They only accept Samba, Cha Cha, Salsa and Tango because they’re is a limited time in the program.” 

“That’s bullshit!” Keith exclaimed, standing from his seated position. 

“I agree,” Allura said, staring down at the rules she’d printed out in anger. “Which is why I say fuck them.” 

The two boys stared at each other in shock. Allura  _ never  _ swore, even if something went completely wrong she never said an expletive. Shiro once told Keith that she’d come close once when she had been disqualified from a competition because of her costume. 

Both of them laughed at her astonished face. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she murmured, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. They could tell she was trying to hold in her own laughter and failing miserably. “Oh god, that’s bad. But I do mean it. Even if you two get disqualified you’re dancing the Paso Doble in Nationals.” 

“Aye aye, cap’n,” Lance said, giving her a salute as she left. 

\--

The next two months passed in a blur of work. Keith didn’t realise how much fun he was having with Lance until he noticed how quickly time had gone. Nationals were tomorrow, and for the first time Keith felt actually nervous. 

As was his tradition he ate a large supper that night, sat in his apartment and watched tv to take his mind off of it, Kosmo curled up on his lap. His costume was hung up in his wardrobe, ready to be transported to the venue the next morning and ironed to perfection. Lance’s whole family were attending, and they’d put the Tango on their application form so that they could actually get onto the dance floor. 

This wasn’t the first time Keith had gone against the rules of a competition, but it was the first time he was going against them on such a large scale, and not alone as well. It made all the difference, he thought, because it gave him more confidence in their choice. And Allura had said that their membership in the dance studio was not at stake seeing as it was her plan in the first place. 

The venue was buzzing with excitement when Keith arrived that morning, and he spotted Lance immediately, leant against the hood of his car with his own costume hidden by a clothes bag. 

“Hey,” Keith greeted, hooking his own outfit over his shoulder. The two of them spent some time watching other competitors enter the venue, glancing at the brands emblazoned on their clothing and their luggage with a slight hint of trepidation. “You ready to do this?” 

“As ready as I can be,” Lance replied with a nervous smile. Keith hefted his bag onto his shoulder, freeing his hand to take Lance’s and lead the both of them into the venue with ease. 

They spotted Allura and the other competitors from their studio next to the registration desk, and from there it felt like a whirlwind of movement before they were backstage about to go out into the ballroom. They both had the number 100 emblazoned on their fronts and backs because - as Keith explained to Lance - during these large competitions they were often only referred to by their numbers. 

Keith kept his hand within reach of Lance’s, spotting how pale and nervous his partner was getting. Often Lance would grab hold of it to squeeze Keith’s fingers before letting go. Sometimes the two of them would let their fingers settle, their palms slightly clammy but comforting as they watched each competition and each dancer enter and exit the dance floor, some coming backstage in floods of tears. 

It looked like the whole city had turned up for the competition, the barriers practically groaning under the weight of the press representatives and their large cameras. 

“Alright you two, you have about fifteen minutes until you’re up. Have you been to hair and make up?” Allura asked, looking incredibly flustered as she took in the two of them. “Yes you have,” she answered herself. “Right, the board isn't allowed to stop the music even if you break the rules but they are allowed to call you off the floor so just be wary if that happens.” 

And with that she swept away in a flurry of skirts and the scent of perfume. 

“What happens if we do get called off the floor?” Lance asked, his voice shaking slightly. 

“Best case scenario? Not much, we’re just disqualified from the competition. Worst case scenario is that we’re banned from all other competitions, which to be honest I couldn’t care less about,” Keith told him, and Lance stared at him in shock. 

“But dancing is your life, it’s what you’ve been working towards right?” he asked, and Keith could see his mind trying to rationalise what Keith just told him. 

“Yes, but there’s more to dancing than just the competitions. There’s the lessons, classes and the freedom that comes with just dancing without any pressure,” Keith explained. “I used to dance for myself, I would go into my backyard in Texas with my mom’s shitty speaker and the dusty ground as my dance floor and I’d just... _ move. _ ” 

He found Lance’s astonished gaze on him, and he smiled, feeling that little bit of freedom he’d had back home burning in his chest. 

“If this is to be my last competition, then so be it,” he told Lance, gazing back out to the ballroom with a determined gaze. “But we’re gonna make it a dance they won’t forget.” 

“And couple number one hundred: Keith Kogane, and his partner Lance McClain!” came the announcement over the loudspeaker and Keith led Lance out through the red curtain to thundering applause. 

The lights in the ballroom were so bright that they had to allow their eyes to adjust before moving forward. They joined the line of dancers, the red and black sequins on their outfits sparkling. They’d chosen a matador style jacket for both of them, with black pants and capes that detached from their shoulders when needed. Keith’s was red, Lance’s was black. 

“Wow Keith, didn’t expect  _ you  _ to be here,” Nyma greeted as the two took their positions. “Who's your new partner? Have to say I’ve never heard of him before.” Her sneer was obvious through the thick makeup, and Lance almost retorted but Keith halted him with a squeeze of his arm. 

“Dancers, take your positions,” the presenter called into the microphone, and the music began. As it was a Latin competition, there was a general track sent out to all competitors for choreography and so it was easier for the sound team. 

Keith locked eyes with Lance, grey irises shining in the artificial light that they almost looked purple. “Ready?” he asked, and Lance nodded. 

They began strongly, heads held high with dignity and strength as they stepped out in the first move. Keith could feel the cape fluttering at his back as he watched his frame carefully. They had the whole floor to work with, the only problem being that they had to keep an eye out for the other competitors and their toes. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith could just about see Nyma and Rolo doing a Cha Cha, and he spotted other couples doing the accepted styles of Latin dancing. The crowd’s applause thundered throughout the room, shouts of the couples’ numbers ringing in Keith’s ears. 

He found himself focussing on Lance though, the two of them making eye contact and keeping it as they split apart, flapping their capes for emphasis. Lance looked completely concentrated, his expression serious but fierce as the song continued. Keith found himself enthralled by his bright eyes, the blue accented by the lights of the ballroom. He could see him smirk from where he stood, and Keith returned it as their choreography continued. 

Because they weren’t allowed to do any difficult lifts as they were considered ‘flashy’ and against the rule book they were only able to pick each other up two inches from the floor, and Keith found himself in Lance’s arms, the room spinning around them as their capes fluttered in the air. 

Keith could feel something in his stomach heating, his passion becoming alight as they continued, coming back into hold and making their way down the dance floor. They could just make out Allura and the team through the flashes of the camera, their cries loudest when they neared the barrier. 

Lance spun Keith out, nodding to him as the two of them unclipped their capes. It was to surprised cheers that they threw the cloths over their own heads, the display meant to look like a battle of control between the two partners. They kept their eyes on each other as they let go of the fabric, proudly strutting towards the other and coming together in a spin. 

The dance finished dramatically with Lance tilting Keith back until he was almost parallel to the ground. The sounds of the crowd cheering suddenly faded out, and Keith could hear both of their heavy breaths clearly and loudly. He found a stupid grin stretching his lips, one hand fist pumping the air as Lance laughed. 

Keith felt a hand on his cheek and a fluttering kiss on his forehead, the action stunning him into silence as Lance smiled at him nervously. Keith suddenly wanted to pull his head down for their lips to connect, but something broke through the white noise that surrounded them. 

“There has been a disqualification,” the host called through the microphone, causing an eerie silence to fall over the audience, “of couple number one hundred; Keith Kogane and Lance McClain.” 

Murmurs suddenly began, rising through the crowd until it sounded like loads of buzzing bees. Keith could see that the members of the board were becoming slightly nervous of the noise level that was growing exponentially, and Keith smiled in victory. 

“Can couple number one hundred please leave the floor,” the host asked, and they heard the crowd suddenly become very vocal with their disapproval. 

Over their cries of encouragement someone began to clap, the tempo slow but then picking up speed as the rest of the crowd caught on, and Keith glanced to Lance with a smile. His partner nodded, picking him up from his position and the two of them grabbing their capes from the floor. 

It was halfway through their first walk that someone got the music turned on again, the sound booming over the loudspeakers as they moved through the dance. 

Lance grabbed Keith’s waist at the lift, carrying him higher than he was allowed, and Keith whooped in excitement, a bright smile on his face as Lance spun the two of them. From where he was, Keith could see Shiro and Adam in the audience, their own smiles large and their cheers obvious as they clapped along with the others. As Lance kept on spinning Keith stretched out his arms, feeling as if he’d grown wings and the two of them were floating above the dance floor. 

Lance let Keith down, his legs barely feeling the impact of the floor beneath him, and the other didn’t even dare wait, pulling Lance down into a long and deep kiss. It seemed to convey everything he was feeling, the love that burned in his chest, the passion that flowered in his gut and the determination that pulsed in his head. 

“So if you really love me,” Keith whispered, the lyrics stuck in his head, “say yes.” He could feel Lance’s hands on his waist tightening, his blue gaze boring into Keith’s with an intensity he’d never felt before as Keith smiled stupidly, happily. 

“Yes,” Lance breathed, bringing his forehead to meet Keith’s, the sound of the audience fading into nothing as the two swayed to the song only they could hear. 


	3. Eyes unclouded - Princess Mononoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d like to know the name of the person who’s about to inadvertently kiss me,” Lance said with an indignant tone and he felt his heart practically flutter in his chest at the wolf boy’s astounded expression. 
> 
> Lance could hear a noise behind his head that sounded awfully like a chuff and he tried to turn to look but couldn’t see anything with his restricted position on the ground. When he looked back at the wolf boy he spotted the fiery red blush that covered his cheeks and almost cooed at him. He didn’t, thank the gods, but it was a near thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of two Studio Ghibli AUs. I'm not spoiling the second ;)
> 
> I love Princess Mononoke, there's just so much angst. But I do have to say the main character's motivation for going West is a bit ridiculous but oh well. 
> 
> There are no trigger warnings in this chapter so you all can just sit back and relax and enjoy, and if you haven't seen Princess Mononoke before then this chapter will be a HUGE spoiler for the film in general. And for those who have seen the movie before, watch out for the bits I've changed, what I've added etc. 
> 
> I hope you're all keeping happy, safe and sane <3

Something trampled through the forest loudly, its footsteps thudding against the grass. It left a trail of death and destruction as it went, the sound of its breath rattling through its lungs and sending the other creatures running. Black wiggling worms fell from its flanks, dying immediately when they seperated from the host. 

It had no trajectory, its mind blank as it continued on its mindless journey. A few miles away, on the outskirts of a village a young man made his way to the watchtower on the west side of the open plains. His blue clothes were bright against the long grasses, the red elk underneath him diligent in its speed. 

“Jiji, do you see something? Rachel said you called for me,” Lance asked the man once he’d climbed the wooden structure, his own keen eyes catching the sight of the trees swaying where there was no wind. “Is it the Emperor?” 

“No, there hasn’t been rumours of movement from him. Our scouts say it's a beast heading this way. Have you sent the girls back to the village?” Jiji asked, keeping his gaze on the trees. 

“Yeah, the wise woman has called everyone back,” Lance replied. “I passed them on the way here.” 

“Good, that’s good,” Jiji replied, and a silence descended over them. Even the surrounding area when quiet, the only sound their breathing as the two of them held steady in the watchtower. 

“Prince Lance, look,” Jiji suddenly whispered, pointing towards the edge of the forest where a dark shadow seemed to slither towards the stone wall that separated their land from the forest. Lance leaned against the wood of the watchtower, slowly pulling his bow from his back. 

“What is that?” he murmured, blue eyes taking in the indiscernible shape. A shiver suddenly ran up his spine and the wind turned cold as something burst out from the shadow of the trees. 

It seemed to have six legs and a large mass in the middle, blood red eyes darting madly about the place. The grass behind and under it seemed to shrivel and die at its touch alone, and Lance’s eyes widened in shock as it stepped into the light and the black mass shrunk away from it to reveal the animal beneath. It was a boar, a large one at that and he suspected one of the minor gods of the forest. 

“Jiji, get back to the village. Tell everyone to stay in the barrier but send out the guards to aid me in taking it down,” Lance commanded him before scurrying down the structure of the watchtower and climbing onto his red elk’s back. 

He rode hard and fast towards the god, worried that its gaze would turn to the village. The boar had paused at the crest of the large hill that overlooked the plains, its red gaze locking onto Lance as he broke free of the trees that surrounded him. 

He pulled Kaltenecker to a stop, holding his bow loosely as he faced the boar god. 

“God of the forest, please turn back. There is nothing for you here,” Lance called, slowly inching an arrow out of his quiver just in case the boar made a move towards the village. He could hear the footsteps of the scouts behind him, and a tension appeared between the two groups. 

Lance could hear the god’s rattling breaths from where he sat atop Kaltenecker, and his keen eyes caught sight of wounds along its flank. The scent of it was overwhelming, and Lance had a hard time breathing through his nose. 

The god suddenly surged forward, surprisingly speedy for one so injured and Lance urged Kaltenecker on, the men behind him scattering desperately to get away from it. It seemed to lock onto Lance easily, charging towards him as Lance turned his torso to get a look at it. 

“Please, calm your fury and go back to the forest!” Lance cried out, but he knew he wasn’t going to get through to it. He pulled back an arrow, aiming for the god’s head. It glanced off the wriggling black mass, the boar squealing in pain and drawing to a halt. 

It seemed to shake off the pain, charging once again and suddenly reaching out what looked like an appendage. It latched onto Lance’s arm and his skin suddenly felt like it was on fire. He clenched his teeth in pain, hand balling into a fist as his nerves crackled with heat. He ignored it as best as he could, drawing back another arrow, but he could feel his muscles straining and pulling it back further than he could before. Lance felt the wood of his bow creaking as he let the arrow fly. 

He didn’t watch it land, instead cradling his arm to his chest, watching as the muscles twitched and flexed under his skin without his order. He was helped down from Kalteneckers saddle and he desperately tried to get the villagers to stay away, waving them off with his good arm. He heard the wise woman uncorking a gourd, and someone poured water on his arm as he hissed in pain. 

He was too far away from the god to hear it speak, but he could feel its low timbre rumbling through the ground underneath him. It sent another shiver up his spine. 

\--

The wise woman told him he was cursed, even though he saved the village from the rampaging god. He didn’t protest having to leave because it meant he was keeping all of them safe from himself. He’d seen what this curse  _ could  _ do to him; it was lying dead just on the borders of their village. He left when darkness fell, hood drawn and face covered. He’d said his goodbyes to his family and he turned in his saddle at the entrance to the forest for one last look at his home before heading West. 

His village had stories of how the Forest God had the skill of curing any maladies or injuries, but also had the power to take away life as quickly as he gave it. Lance assumed that would hold true for the demon mark that was now slowly over taking his arm. The wise woman had told him something about going West to ‘see with eyes unclouded by hate’ but he found the notion ridiculous and internally laughed her off. 

It would take a while to ride West, and the weather wasn’t kind to Lance as he travelled during the day and camped under any form of shelter he could find during the night. He passed by villages, some of which were being overrun by samurai, but Lance slipped right past them, not wishing to draw any attention to himself. 

He came across his first town on the fourth day of travelling, heading straight for the rice teller within the market. 

“Good morning,” he said quietly, pulling down his mask to greet the lady. “I’d like to purchase two pounds of rice please.” And he held out the cloth sack he’d pulled out from one of Kaltenecker’s saddlebags. 

The woman measured the amount out easily, handing over the sack before presenting her hand for payment. Lance, thinking it was the standard pay as it was in his village gave her two coins. She stared at it incredulously, glancing up at Lance as if he were stupid. 

“I dunno what you’re pulling mister, but this isn’t the right payment for that rice,” she told him, and Lance was about to try to find more coins before a man suddenly bustled up to them. He didn’t realise he’d drawn a crowd and slyly tugged his mask back up to his nose. 

“Excuse me madam, but can I take a look at that coin?” the man asked, and she handed it over easily. Lance looked at the man in slight suspicion, knowing he wasn’t up to much good. 

“Why this is Eastern coin. It could easily pay for three bags of rice,” he exclaimed, and Lance took that as his cue to leave. He pushed his way back to Kaltenecker, leading the red elk out of the village and back onto the path West. He hoisted himself up into the saddle once again and set off at a steady trot. 

“Wait!” the man from the market called out, catching up to Lance with gasping breaths. “You’re pretty sly for someone who sticks out so much. I apologize for drawing attention to you but I couldn’t help but notice your red elk.” 

Lance didn’t reply, keeping his eyes on the path ahead of him but he wanted desperately to tell the man to go away. He was quite short, and wearing purple robes that accented his dark hair. He had a short sword on his belt and seemed to be able to talk a mile a minute. 

“I’m called Varkon but you don’t need to tell me your name stranger, or you can and this conversation could become way easier,” the man, Varkon, commented with an unsubtle look in Lance’s direction. But still he didn’t even glance in his direction, his eyes giving away nothing.

“You might be wondering why I know of your currency,” Varkon said, his expression prideful and smug, and Lance had to bite his tongue in annoyance. “I just happen to be a travelling messenger for the great Emperor Zarkon. I’m on a mission to deliver a letter to the Lady Allura of Irontown. Are you perhaps going that way, stranger?” 

Lance didn’t answer once again, and he could tell Varkon was getting irritated at his silence but he didn’t exactly care for the man’s pointless chatter. But he couldn’t urge Kaltenecker on because Varkon knew of his origins and he could spread a rumour about him and cause more trouble than Lance needed. 

The two of them set up camp for the night in a destroyed town, the stars peeking out from the clouds as Varkon built a fire between them. A stew was placed over the flames, and Lance held out his bowl for the food. The other took it with a curious look but didn’t ask where it was from. Lance finally took off his mask, setting it next to Kaltenecker who stood eating his own food. 

“You mentioned going to Irontown, where is that?” Lance asked when he finished his first serving, holding out his bowl for seconds. 

“So he  _ does  _ speak!” Varkon exclaimed with a smile, passing it back when it was filled with food. “Irontown is a fortress built on the edge of the Forest God’s domain. It’s run by Lady Allura who had cleared the surrounding trees to use them as fuel for her town. It’s said she drove a minor god from the forest, injuring it badly enough that it abandoned its territory.” 

Lance thought of the skeleton that lay outstretched on the plain outside his village, of the burning fire that twinged often as the mark inched its way up his arm. 

“You’d have to ride north-west for three days from our position if I’m correct in my calculations, and I usually am,” Varkon commented, slurping up his food before going back for more. 

Lance considered the idea as they finished the stew, tucking his bowl and spoon back into his pack before tugging his cloak around him. He leant against Kaltenecker’s side to sleep, the red elk leaning her head down to his shoulder. 

He rode away from the cave in the early morning, the fog drifting around his ankles. He directed Kaltenecker towards the north-west, patting her neck in encouragement as he drew his mask over his nose once again. Lance didn’t notice Varkon’s eyes peeling open to watch him go, a smile gracing his lips before he turned over to get a few more minutes of sleep. 

\-- 

The rain pounded on the oxens backs, and Allura watched from under her umbrella as the soaked workers dragged the animals down the mountain pass. Her riflemen kept a close eye on the surrounding area, and she shielded her eyes with one hand. 

“The sooner we get back to the town the sooner we get to eat,” she called as encouragement, watching as a few of them pushed the oxen around the corner. The shipment had been an easy deal, but it was now just a case of getting the rice home. Coran, her second, joined her under the cover with his rifle wrapped. 

“No sign of the wolf boy,” he commented, keeping his gaze on the workers as Allura gazed out into the terrain. 

“He’ll turn up. He usually does,” she replied, her tone bitter and irritated. “Have all the oxen entered the mountain pass?” 

“Yes my Lady,” another rifleman said, his face covered with his eyes being the only thing exposed to the elements. 

“Good, we’ll be home sooner than I thought,” she said, a flicker of white in the distance catching her eye. “Be on guard, he’s here.” 

They didn’t dare announce it to the workers, not wanting to cause mass panic. They could tell something was wrong, however, as Allura tugged the cloth that covered her rifle down, exposing the polished wood underneath. 

It seemed to be only two wolves that night, but Allura knew to be on the lookout for more. She could make out the shape of the wolf boy, his slight body pressed against the back of the animal he rode. They were aiming for the oxen, and Allura finally called for the riflemen to take out their guns. 

The noise of the shots startled the oxen, causing them to halt in place and cause a ruckus. Allura kept her gaze trained on the wolf boy, but he didn’t seem to come any closer, directing his little group off to the side. 

“That's it?” Coran cried out, his voice edging on triumphant, but Allura didn’t let her rifle or her guard down, keeping her gaze on the mountain side. 

“No, those were just the pups. Wait until you see their mother,” she commented, holding out her hand for more gunpowder. 

An almighty crash sounded before them as a wolf twice the size of the other two landed on top of the oxen. It’s two tails identified it as Krolia, the wolf god and Allura aimed her rifle. She missed on the first shot, her men taking aim as well but it seemed none were able to make a hit through all the rain. 

Allura reloaded, watching as some of her men and oxen fell over the side because of the gods writhing mass. She felt a twinge in her chest at their loss but she couldn’t concentrate on it then as Krolia drew closer and closer. She finally took aim once more, the shot hitting finally and sending the large, snarling wolf over the side of the mountain. 

\-- 

Lance had gotten down from Kaltenecker to give her a break, leading her through the trees on foot. He heard the sound of a roaring river before he saw it, grateful for a break. However he spotted something in the water, and as he drew closer he realised they were bodies. 

He hurried to the closest one, strapping his bow to his back and checking for a pulse. It was there but it was slow, and he carefully dragged the man over to the side of the water. He wasn’t very heavy, but his clothes weighed him down and the strong current of the river didn’t seem to help matters. But Lance managed it, laying the man out flat on the grass before heading back into the water. 

He’d only found two, the others either dead or swept away by the current and Lance stood with his head bowed in respect of the fallen men. Just to make sure he wasn’t missing any, Lance made his way up the bank of the river keeping his keen blue eyes on the water. He spotted movement on the other side, and used the rocks to crouch behind a fallen tree, its roots providing cover. 

A large black mass of fur laid sprawled out on the river bank and Lance could just make out the hitching rise and fall of its breath. He’d never seen such a creature but from where he stood he couldn’t get a good look at it. A rustle in the trees caught his attention, and two wolves stepped out from between the trunks, both white furred and slightly smaller than the mass on the grass. 

The person riding on top of one caused Lance’s breath to hitch, his eyes locked onto the form as it slid down the wolf’s back. They wore a white fur cloak and soft leather boots, their hair and facial features hidden by a hood. They helped the mass of fur onto its feet, and Lance realised it was a large black wolf with two tails weighed down by water. The figure suddenly stuck its face into the wolf’s flank before drawing back again, spitting out a long stream of red that Lance recognised as blood. 

He couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped his mouth, but the person seemed to hear it, their head whipping around to look at the surrounding area. Lance was immediately taken aback at the fierce beauty that somehow assaulted him. Dark keen eyes took in the raging waters, hair black as night tied back with a black and purple mask perched on their -  _ his  _ \- head. His mouth was covered in blood, but that seemed to add to his allure and Lance found that he couldn’t take his gaze off of him. 

The boy went back to his task, finally pulling something out of the wolf’s side and tossing it into the river in disdain. Lance, knowing that the wolf-boy was going to leave rushed to climb onto the tree trunk, tugging down his mask to expose his face. 

“My name is Lance,” he shouted, wary that he must look like a fool but shoving down the thought anyway, “I have come from the East. Tell me, where can I find the domain of the Forest Spirit!” 

He would’ve liked to ask the boy for his name, but that dangerous look he was giving him sent a shiver up his spine. The boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood over his lips before climbing onto one of the smaller wolves once again. 

“Go away,” he called out, his tone brockering no argument and Lance watched as the little unit disappeared into the treeline. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears and something bubbling in his stomach, but he couldn’t concentrate on it as a groan sounded behind him. 

One of the men awoke, desperately trying to move one of his broken limbs, his expression painted with fear. Lance furrowed his brows as he approached, suddenly noticing the small spirit that stood at Kaltenecker’s feet. She seemed unaffected by the little one, even reaching down with her snout to take a sniff at it. The man’s teeth chattered with fear meanwhile, and Lance crouched down next to him. 

“I wouldn’t move that leg of yours, it hasn’t been splinted,” Lance commented, and the man jolted in surprise. 

“Oh thank the gods, sir! We must get out of here, that tiny spirit will be calling for backup any minute!” the man exclaimed, clutching onto Lance’s robes tightly. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll hurt you. And we need to set your friend’s injuries and yours,” Lance commented, standing to pull what little medical supplies he had in the saddlebags. “Kaltenecker seems fine with it, and if she’s okay then there’s nothing to worry about.” 

That didn’t seem to help, the man still staring at the little spirit in fear. Lance shrugged half heartedly, making his way over to his other patient and carefully lifting his leg to strap it against two branches. It didn’t take long to splint their bones, but it took a lot of complaining from the conscious man, the other not having awoken yet. 

“Where do you live?” Lance asked as he tied the bandages in place. “It’d be best if we got moving to get you home before dark.”

“We live in Irontown, sir, but it’ll take days to walk the river path as Lady Allura was using the mountain pass to get home,” the man explained, and Lance hummed in thought, casting his eye to the little spirit that had now moved to Kaltenecker’s back. If he was right in his thinking, the forest that surrounded them was close to the town itself, he could smell the scent of woodsmoke and metals on the wind. 

He turned to the little one, smiling kindly at it. “Do you think you could show us a shortcut home through the forest?” he asked it, watching as it seemed to tilt its head in an encouraging gesture and fading from view. He caught sight of it again at the edge of the treeline, its little hand beckoning them into the foliage. 

It took a while to convince the man to ride Kaltenecker’s back as Lance pulled the other onto his own. But with a bit of convincing they were moving, following the little one who had suddenly been accompanied by a few more of its fellows. 

Lance could feel the sweat trickling down his brow, his breaths coming in heavy pants as he trudged through the undergrowth. He took a pause, pressing a hand into a moss ridden branch and watching as the spirits ran past, some of them imitating him by carrying others on their backs. 

“Sir, I really think we shouldn’t be stopping so soon. The forest is really dangerous,” the man called out, flinching away from some of the spirits that had climbed the tree branches above them. 

“We’re halfway through the forest I suspect. We’ll stop when we can because I don’t think your friend's injuries will hold out through the journey,” Lance commented, hoisting the man on his back higher before continuing on. “Don’t lead us off any cliffs,” he called out to the spirit who led them through the trees. 

A whole collection of them suddenly appeared, most hanging off the branches of an old oak tree. Their heads clicked as they ran up and down the bark, and Lance watched in wonder as they surrounded it.

“That must be their mother,” he murmured, blue eyes widening in surprise at the majestic specimen. “A grand old oak tree.” 

They continued for a little while longer, finally stopping when they came across pools of water. Lance let the man on his back down gently, doing the same for the one that rode Kaltenecker before grabbing his bowl from the saddlebags. He suddenly recognised wolf prints on the moss covered stones and his keen eyes swept over the area, looking for any sign of the wolf boy within the trees. 

Movement to his right caught Lance’s attention, and he spotted a herd of deer trudging past the water pools. It suddenly felt as if all sound faded as he watched a creature step into the sunlight. He couldn’t get a good look at it, only barely making out the silhouette of many antlers upon its head before his arm went completely mental. 

His muscles twitched so much that he dropped his bowl, his nerves burning and skin roiling in pain. He quickly dunked his hand in the water, using his other to hold it down as it flinched, his breaths coming in gasps and a trickle of sweat rolling down his nose and landing in the water with a  _ plip _ . 

It finally calmed, and he felt his shoulders relax from the tense position they’d been in. He pulled his bowl out from the mud, washing it before bringing it back to the two men. Neither asked about what had happened, and Lance was grateful for the silence as they prepared to leave. He missed the concerned look that was aimed at his back though as he picked the man up again and started on his way. 

They broke through the trees faster than Lance expected, but he was grateful for the sunlight that hit his cheeks. He’d pulled his mask back up again, wary of any strangers seeing his face. The man atop Kaltenecker called for the attention of the villagers and Lance helped put the two of them in the boat, happy to ride Kaltenecker across the river to give his legs a break, even if it meant getting them wet. 

It seemed that they’d caught up to the supply line, men leading oxen up the wooden bridge and into the formidable town. It looked like a fortress, the wall that surrounded it made of sharpened tree trunks and Lance could make out a line of smoke drifting from the main building and into the sky. Men and women poured out of the village in droves, the noise level getting louder as they realised the ones they thought dead were alive and - almost - in good health. 

Lance was greeted with a heavy silence as the people took in this stranger that saved two of their own. Lance gracefully climbed down from Kaltenecker’s back, turning his gaze on the crowd gathered around him. They flinched back slightly, afraid of who he was when a sudden voice called from the wooden bridge. 

“Stranger, thank you for bringing back our men. I would like to speak to you later this evening if that is agreeable with you,” a woman called out, dressed in flowing robes with her platinum blonde hair tied back. Lance nodded politely, pulling down his mask to smile at her. He caught some of the women gasping in delight as he turned to lead Kaltenecker into the town. 

\-- 

Lance never realised what he was stepping into when he entered Irontown. He certainly didn’t expect to be swooned on by multiple townswomen. They welcomed him happily and gladly, the men too which was evident when they invited Lance to eat with them during supper. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Lance suddenly began when they were all sitting around a low bearing table, watching as each man glanced up from their food, “how did the men come to be in the river?” 

A grumble rose throughout the room and one man who sat on Lance’s right answered. 

“It’s because of that damn Wolf God and her human pup,” he said, his tone dripping with vitriol. “They’re the ones sending our men and oxen over the side all because we cut down a few trees.” 

Lance furrowed his brow before asking another question. “But don’t they have a right to be angry about you destroying their territory?” he asked, and he saw many of their expressions turn slightly sour at that. 

“They have the right laddie, but that don’t mean they should act on it,” another man answered, and Lance didn’t dare push the subject anymore. 

“They say that Prince Mononoke can shapeshift into a wolf,” one man commented, and the others laughed uproariously at the thought.

“I heard he eats people for breakfast,” another said, and Lance could clearly hear the sarcasm as the laughter began again. He couldn’t bear to sit around to listen however, excusing himself as he had to go to his meeting with Lady Allura. 

He didn’t know what to expect from her, but what he saw was a strong independent woman who went against the Emperor’s wishes. Lance believed he was in love, but then he considered what she’d done to the forest surrounding her town and he rethought his feelings swiftly. Although she  _ was  _ beautiful. 

“You mentioned you were looking for the Forest Spirit,” she broached, eyes turned out to the horizon before them. Lance looked at her in surprise, unsure how that came up in any of the conversations he’d had in Irontown. But then he realised. 

“Varkon came by didn’t he?” Lance asked sarcastically, a smile inching its way up his cheeks. Allura gave him a knowing look, her own smirk on her lips. 

“You will have to be careful with who you say that to. Some are liable to loose lips,” she commented. “But I’m curious as to why you’re searching for him.” 

Lance considered his answer for a second before standing back from the barrier and turning to face her. He untied his shirt, rolling his sleeve up and exposing his cursed arm to Lady Allura. In the darkness of the evening, it looked more menacing than it seemed, the ends of it curling up the peak of his shoulder and around the base of his fingers now. She considered the mark heavily, her brows furrowed in concern. 

“I gained this while fighting a minor god away from my village,” Lance explained, a stern and angry gaze set on Allura’s features. “This was  _ after  _ you sent it away with what I expect is an iron bullet in its chest. I aim to go looking for the Forest Spirit to heal me, and possibly see what has caused such hatred between men and gods.” 

“I apologise that such a terrible thing had to happen to you,” she said, bowing her head, “however I had to protect my people. The Emperor had driven us out of our own home, and it was either cut down some trees to make a new one or succumb to the elements.” 

“I understand that,” Lance replied, pulling down his sleeve again, “but there are other ways to negotiate than violence. And there are other ways to make a village than cutting down whole swathes of trees.” 

He didn’t expect to get through to her, but that did seem to give her pause. She gazed out to the felled land that surrounded Irontown. The remains of the trees that had been pulled down looked like fallen soldiers, their filed points tilted to the sky. They’d burned through the branches quickly, the wood only enough for three shipments of iron before they’d had to head deeper into the forest. Allura could see how she’d been the instigator of great destruction. 

“It is too late to change what we have done,” she said, “we only have to live with the consequences. Of which there are many.” 

Lance couldn’t help but notice how tired she sounded, and yet he couldn’t find a single ounce of sympathy for her. After all, she was the creator of her own misery and the only one who could mend what she had broken. 

A sudden flash of white amongst the fallen trees caught Lance’s attention, and he leaned against the wood of the fence that surrounded Irontown to get a better look. His keen eyes made out the forms of the two white wolves, and he spied the wolf boy’s white cloak before someone began to hit against a piece of iron. 

“The wolf boy is here!” the guard cried out just as one of the wolves rammed themselves against the stakes and the boy used the momentum to propel himself up the barrier. He jabbed what looked like a spear into the wood and used that to push himself up the remaining distance. 

He wore his mask, the ceramic almost black in the darkness of night, so Lance didn’t get a look at his expression but he couldn’t concentrate on it anyway as he quickly unsheathed his sword and parried the wolf boy’s own blade. Allura had somehow disappeared, whether to leave Lance to deal with the problem or to get back up was a question he couldn’t answer at that moment as he parried another swipe. 

“Wait! I mean you no harm!” Lance cried out, batting the boy’s blade away again. The boy seemed to take his opponent in before suddenly using the barrier to push himself over Lance’s head. 

He watched in amazement as the boy knocked down the guards that climbed up into the rafters before leaping onto the rooftops and sprinting towards the main factory. Lance could hear the villager’s panic, worried about the bellows they worked so hard to keep running. He could see Coran ordering most of them to grab their weapons, his own hand gripped on a sheathed katana as he pushed his way through the crowd. 

Lance’s keen gaze took in the distance between the first building directly in front of him and the battlement he stood on. He backed up slightly before propelling himself over the opening, barely making it onto the rooftop and sending some slates falling to the ground. He didn’t pay attention to the screams of surprise that echoed behind him, only focussed on the wolf boy’s direction. 

Lance could feel his demon mark twitching and his skin begin to burn, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He didn’t need distractions at that moment. The smoke from the bellows rose into the sky as Lance stopped just at the base of the factory’s rooftop. 

“Are you listening Prince Mononoke?” Allura suddenly called out and when Lance glanced back he saw that she was flanked by two women holding rifles in their hands. He dreaded what was going to happen, taking in their angry expressions as Allura continued. “I have a few women who would like to have a talk with you. About their dead husbands.” 

A silence fell across the whole town as the villager’s seemed to hold their breath. Lance could see Allura muttering something to Coran and he realised it was a trick to draw the boy out from his hiding place. He whipped his head around to gaze at the top of the factory, almost willing the boy not to appear. 

He could just barely make out his silhouette through the smoke, his blade held loosely in his grasp and his furred cloak fluttering in the wind. Lance made his way a bit closer, blue eyes locked onto the boy’s figure. 

“Don’t! It’s a trap!” he suddenly shouted, his voice carrying over the village easily. He knew the boy heard it, because he could just see his head tilting in his direction slightly. But it seemed that his advice was being ignored as the wolf boy launched himself down the rooftop.

Lance could hear Allura calling for the women to take aim, and he watched with wide eyes and dread pooling in his gut as one of the bullets missed, sending wood flying just where the wolf boy was about to place his right foot. He didn’t stumble though and Allura called the second woman to fire the sound of it echoing throughout the village. 

This time, it didn’t miss, hitting the wolf boy on his mask and shattering it in a tinkling of ceramic. Lance barely got a glance at his face before he fell, rolling over and over until he tumbled off the side of the roof. Lance hurried over to the edge to watch the wolf boy push himself up gently, slowly, turning his gaze towards the villagers coming his way. Lance gasped quietly as the wolf boy leaped high into the air, using Coran and a few of the other villagers as stepping stones to make it to the clearing where Allura stood. 

Lance lost track of him then in the swarm of bodies and he dropped down from the rooftop, his anger and indignation at the violence surrounding him feeding into the demon mark and making it burn harshly. He strode forward purposefully, and he barely even noticed Coran before him. 

“Stop! Stop right there!” he cried, katana aimed at Lance’s abdomen, but the young man paid him no mind. He reached out with his arm, which suddenly looked to have large purple worms wriggling all over it, and grabbed hold of Coran’s blade. With no strain at all Lance bent it crooked before continuing on, leaving the soldier to stare at his blade in astonishment. 

He didn’t have to force his way through the crowd as the villagers parted in fear, giving Lance a view of the fight happening between Lady Allura and the wolf boy. He calmly made his way towards them, parrying the wolf boys blade with his own and holding it there and blocking Allura’s next hit with his forearm against hers. 

“What do you think you’re doing Lance?” Allura questioned, her brow furrowed in confusion and anger as the wolf boy snarled at her. “You should be letting me skin this pup as a message to his mother.” 

“There should be no more fighting,” Lance called out, his own expression just as fierce in its conviction. “Violence will achieve nothing but more violence.” 

“And what do you know about violence and anger? You’re a stranger from the East who is naive enough to go looking for the forest spirit,” Allura sneered, pressing down harder against Lance’s forearm as he finally let go of the little control he had over the mark. 

The purple worms suddenly erupted from his clothing, transparent in the firelight but terrifying as if they were real. The wolf boy gasped in shock, but he didn’t stumble back as Lance turned his head to address the whole village. 

“This is what I know of anger, and violence. This curse will ravage my body until it gets to my heart and turn me into a soulless demon,” Lance exclaimed. “But I know when those emotions are unneeded.” And suddenly he was moving, driving his elbow into Allura’s gut and hitting the wolf boy on the temple with the handle of his blade. 

He heard gasps from the crowd, but he held up both of them before gently easing Allura into the arms of the awaiting women. “She’s just unconscious,” he told them before hoisting the wolf boy onto his shoulder. “I will be leaving now. Thank you for your hospitality. Come on Kaltenecker!” 

He turned to make his way to the entrance of the village, much to the villager’s surprise. Lance didn’t notice one woman still had her gun aimed at him until the other suddenly told her off. The resulting fright caused her to pull the trigger, and Lance could feel a burning pain worse than the mark rip through his free shoulder. He didn’t allow himself to stumble and kept walking with his head held high.

It was at the gate that he could feel a slight notion of doubt in his mind that he’ll be able to open it but none of the guards - surprisingly - tried to stop him as he pressed his hand against the wood. He could feel blood drip down his back from the gunshot wound but ignored it as he felt the wood underneath his palm finally give and the gate be pushed open. He could hear quiet gasps from the villagers behind him as they watched the heavy wood lift from the ground.

The sound of the wolves panting caught his attention as Lance held the gate open for Kaltenecker to walk through. “It’s alright, your prince is safe!” he called, before turning and inclining his head in goodbye to the people behind him. All he’d left behind was a trail of blood as he let the gate fall shut with a definitive thud. 

He managed to climb onto Kaltenecker’s back before he lost consciousness, leant against the wolf boy’s body for support as his red blood trickled down Kaltenecker’s flank. 

\-- 

Dark eyes flickered open slowly, a short groan escaping the wolf boy’s mouth as he took notice of the rocking motion of an animal galloping below him. He felt something slip against his back and he jerked his head around in surprise as the boy dressed in blue slid off the red elk’s back. 

Ryou, his wolf brother, dashed forward to clench the boy’s head between his teeth and the wolf boy scrambled down from the elk’s back to shoo him off. Shiro, his other brother, approached the prone body slowly with a growl deep in his chest. The wolf boy gazed in curiosity at the human, eyes taking in his red stained clothing before becoming distracted by a twig hitting the side of his head. 

Ryou snarled at the bare leaf tree that held most of the ape clan, their eyes glowing red and their expression indescernible.  _ “How dare you disrespect the wolf clan,”  _ he growled, taking a menacing step forward,  _ “leave now or your meat will become dinner.”  _

_ “Humans have destroyed this forest. Give us boy and we eat human flesh to grow strong,”  _ one of them said, tossing a small stone that landed a few metres from the wolf boy’s boots. 

“That won’t solve anything,” the wolf boy told them, taking a few strategic steps to guard the other from errant debris. He hadn’t awoken yet. “Go back to the forest and grow more trees. That is all we can do for now.” 

“I came here to ask the Forest Spirit for healing,” the boy suddenly said, his voice no more than a murmur but in the quiet of the night it carried further than expected. “Perhaps if you ask he will do the same for the forest.” 

_ “Human speaks of nonsense. Ape eat human and grow strong,”  _ they replied, throwing more stones and twigs in their direction. 

_ “I’ll eat  _ **_you_ ** _ you stupid monkey,”  _ Ryou growled before darting forward and sending the apes scrambling for safety. 

“Ryou!” the wolf boy called out, causing his brother to turn back with a disappointed chuff. The wolf boy approached the other carefully, lowering himself to his knees to get closer to the human’s face. His snout was scrunched in pain, teeth clenched and jaw tight. The wolf boy could see the growing pool of red beneath his shoulder. 

“Why did you save me?” he asked, dark eyes narrowing as the other’s fluttered open. “I could’ve killed that woman and this whole mess would’ve been dealt with.” 

“You don’t stop destruction with more death, that’s just feeding the cycle,” the human said, his breath rattling through his lungs. 

“Then we would’ve burnt the whole village down to the ground, killing all humans inside,” the wolf boy exclaimed, the anger he felt towards Irontown burning hot in his chest. “In fact, why don’t I start with you right now?” 

He quickly unsheathed his blade and with great control stopped it just above the other’s throat, the tip of it grazing his skin. The wolf boy watched as blue eyes fluttered opened again, and they seemed to really take in who was hovering above him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the wolf boy’s eyes widened in surprise as he pressed the blade down further. 

“S-Shut up!” he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. “I hate you. I hate  _ humans _ .” But he was shouting at an unreceptive audience as the human’s eyes slid shut once again. 

_ “Keith, we have to get back before sundown. You know how mother gets about curfews,”  _ Shiro said suddenly, coming up beside the wolf boy who gently scratched underneath his chin. 

“What do we do about him?” the wolf boy asked, tilting his chin towards the human. 

_ “Can I eat the elk?”  _ Ryou asked, his lips pulled back to expose his teeth. The wolf boy smirked, hitting his brother’s shoulder. 

“No, go ahead and tell mother to meet me at the Forest Spirit’s pool,” the wolf boy said, pushing at both his brother’s furred shoulders to send them on their way. He turned his gaze towards the red elk who stood apart from them, but stared with concern at her master. 

The wolf boy approached the elk slowly, sword sheathed and hands held up in reassurance. 

“I can’t take him to the pool on my own,” the wolf boy said, “can you help me?” 

\-- **

Lance awoke to water dripping on his nose. He found that it was dew drops from the cold night before falling from the leaves above him. He wrinkled his nose and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the green above his head, knowing the area around Irontown had no trees at all. And that there wasn’t a blazing pain in his shoulder. 

He reached his fingers to gently prod at the area and found to be a hole in his clothes, but not his shoulder. He gasped in surprise at the feel of tender new skin before pulling down his sleeve only to see that the demon mark had passed the joint of his collar bone and was inching towards the first knuckles of his fingers. Lance sighed in disappointment and exhaustion, letting his hand fall to his chest again. 

He could hear the soft patter of feet on the grass behind him, and Lance tried to crane his neck to no avail as he hissed in discomfort at the twinge of his muscles. He spotted a pair of soft leather boots before the wolf boy came into view. 

“You’re lucky the Forest Spirit healed your wound in time,” he said, “I thought I was going to have to bury you.” 

“He didn’t heal the wound that’ll kill me,” Lance replied cryptically and cynically, disappointment colouring his tone. He could tell he’d offended the wolf boy by his furrowed eyebrows. 

He knelt beside Lance anyway, pulling a piece of meat from his pocket and offering it to him. “Eat,” he said, and Lance valiantly tried to get his jaw working. Obviously, his exhaustion was working against him as he couldn’t even get his teeth to cut through it. 

The wolf boy suddenly huffed in annoyance, grabbing for the meat that had flopped to Lance’s chest and tearing into it deftly. He chewed vigorously before suddenly leaning forward. Lance’s eyes widened and he suddenly found the energy to throw his hands up, spluttering loudly to the wolf boy’s surprise. 

“I’d like to know the name of the person who’s about to inadvertently kiss me,” Lance said with an indignant tone and he felt his heart practically flutter in his chest at the wolf boy’s astounded expression. 

Lance could hear a noise behind his head that sounded awfully like a chuff and he tried to turn to look but couldn’t see anything with his restricted position on the ground. When he looked back at the wolf boy he spotted the fiery red blush that covered his cheeks and almost cooed at him. He didn’t, thank the gods, but it was a near thing.

“It’s Keith,” the boy murmured, his dark eyes gazing at Lance with a challenging look. But Lance only smiled at him. 

“Nice to meet you Keith, the name’s Lance,” he said, barely restraining himself from giving the wolf boy a wink. He got this way when he was running low on energy or lack of sleep, but he could see Keith’s eyes rolling from where he lay on the ground. 

When he was finished eating, Keith helped him into a sitting position leant on a tree trunk and Kaltenecker finally made her way over. She pressed her snout against Lance’s cheek and he scratched her behind the ears. 

“She wouldn’t leave your side,” Keith commented as he took a seat across from Lance. “I took off her rope thingy and said she could go but she didn’t move. It’s surprising.” And his dark eyes took in the red elk as she settled to stand beside her master. 

“Well wouldn’t your wolves do the same?” Lance asked, glancing at them as they lounged on a fallen tree. Keith’s gaze seemed to go hard at Lance’s words. 

“They’re not mine. They’re my brothers and they can come and go as they please,” he told Lance, his tone non-negotiable. 

_ “But that doesn’t mean we’d abandon him,”  _ one of them said, and Lance tried to hide his surprise at the voice but was only partly successful as he spotted Keith’s smirk. 

_ “A wolf is part of the pack,”  _ the other said, turning its eyes towards the two who sat on the ground. 

“Huh,” Lance murmured, glancing between the wolves and Keith. The wolf boy suddenly glanced over to the left, and the wolves’ ears pricked up in surprise. Lance strained his hearing, placing his palms flat against the grass to feel the vibrations of hundreds of footsteps, the sounds of warthogs becoming clearer as they drew closer. 

Lance glanced in surprise to Keith, wondering what was happening to have a herd of warthogs approach them. The wolves stood from their relaxed positions, lips drawing back to reveal their teeth as the hogs stopped just before Keith. 

_ “What is the meaning of this?”  _ one of them growled as the pigs came to a halt before the members of the wolf clan.  _ “You know not to bring armies to the Forest Spirit’s territory.”  _

“Ryou,” Keith said, placing his palm flat against his head. “We were not alerted to the need of battle, tell me who is your commander.” Lance was surprised by the formality in Keith’s tone and he could tell he meant business as his dark eyes swept over the congregated hogs. 

_ “Our Lord Nago has been wounded and humiliated, driven away from his forest by that despicable human and her iron weapons and you question the need for a battle?!”  _ one of them said, its voice a low timbre, a complete contrast to its high pitched squeals. 

_ “We go into battle for honour of our great leader in the hopes that he will see our triumph and return to us,”  _ another said, and Lance had an awful feeling he knew who they were talking about. He glanced down to his hand, mulling over whether he should say anything to the gathered group. 

“Your Lord Nago is dead,” he said quietly, but he forgot he was surrounded by children of gods and found every pair of eyes on him. He swallowed hard before continuing. “He attacked my village a few weeks ago, but I don’t think it’s the Lord Nago you remember.” 

He pulled down his sleeve, exposing the demon mark to the air again. “He died and gave me this as recompense for relieving him of his suffering. I came here to ask the Forest Spirit to heal me but it is obviously impossible as the bullet in my shoulder is gone but this is not,” he said, casting his eyes to Keith. He could see something that looked like pity in his gaze but he didn’t get a chance to think about it as the warthogs suddenly parted to the side. 

Lance’s eyes suddenly widened at the lord that stepped forward. His white hide was magnificent to see, his tusks large and impressive but as he stepped towards Lance he realised he was blind. His pale eyes locked onto him easily though, the yellow puss leaking from the corners as he placed his snout on Lance’s arm. He drew in a large breath that ruffled his hair before stepping back from Lance, turning his body until he faced Keith who bowed his head. 

“My Lord Okkoto,” he said, straightening. “We should wait until the Forest Spirit gives us word on what to do. The woman has holed herself up in her town with her weapons, there’s no way your army could get through.” 

_ “Keith, our clan grows weaker by the day. We grow small and stupid, and if this will be the last time we can gain respect for a fallen brother then we will take it,”  _ Okkoto said, turning his gaze on the troupe behind him in what Lance could only describe as disgust. 

_ “That is only because you have let it get to that stage, Okkoto,”  _ a new voice called out, and Lance’s eyes widened in surprise at the familiar wolf that stepped out from between the trees.  _ “You have let yourselves become stupid, food for the humans while we have let our line gracefully die out.”  _

_ “Krolia,”  _ Okkoto greeted as the wolf pressed its snout against his. 

_ “You have let yourself go, old man,”  _ the wolf said with a sarcastic tone,  _ “you’re in no condition to fight. And the Forest Spirit will not support you in this battle.”  _ At that Krolia turned her gaze to Keith who quickly glanced down at his boots. Lance shivered as he found himself pinned under that same look, but Krolia didn’t linger on him. 

_ “If you will not fight, then we will move on,”  _ Okkoto said, his tone almost resigned as he ordered his troops to move out. 

“Mother, I have to join them in battle. That human has taken too much of this forest to go unpunished,” Keith said with a determined tone, his eyes almost as stubborn as his mother’s were stern. 

Krolia didn’t give an answer to that however, simply turning to head out.  _ “Bring that human with you. It is obvious he is in need of rest, _ ” she said before trotting away. 

Lance could tell Keith was annoyed, but he didn’t say anything as the wolf boy helped him up onto Kaltenecker’s back. “For what it's worth,” Lance began, grabbing hold of Keith’s wrist and ignoring the angry, scared look he got in return. “I would gladly ride with you. Allura has taken too much of the forest, I’ve seen that she has little remorse for what she’s done.” 

Keith looked at him weirdly as Lance eased his grip on his wrist, letting him move to climb onto the other wolf’s back. 

\--

The night was balmy and quiet and Lance couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt in his stomach at being given Keith’s furs while the other slept curled up in his cloak. The wolf boy had been stubborn about it though, falling asleep quickly so Lance couldn’t protest. He found he couldn’t sleep though, turning his gaze on Keith’s peaceful expression as the moon’s light slanted into the cave. 

He felt his arm give a twitch and he hissed in pain, his other hand coming up to clench it tightly as he pushed himself up from the furs. He didn’t want to wake Keith, not when he was sleeping so peacefully, so he made his way out of the cave. 

_ “That mark will kill you soon,”  _ Krolia said, and Lance turned his head to see her lounging on top of the cover, faced out to the forest stretched below them.  _ “I don’t know why you’re getting attached to my son when your end is so near.”  _

“Honestly, neither do I,” Lance murmured, his eyes catching on Keith’s form within the cave. “It just feels like a pull in my gut that’s leading to him. I can’t quite explain it.” 

There was a slight pause in their conversation as the two of them stared out at the surrounding forest. 

_ “My son is neither human nor wolf. He was given to me to care for by his mother when he was a babe, and I have given him the option to look for his sire if he wanted,”  _ Krolia suddenly said, her tone almost caring as he continued.  _ “But that boy didn’t want to leave, he’s grown up with the forest and he’s of the opinion that he’ll die with it.”  _

Lance suddenly felt the wolf’s gaze centered on him once again, and he schooled his features so that he didn’t flinch at the intensity. 

_ “If you do mean what you say in that you’ll join my boy in battle, promise me you will get him out of there if things look too dangerous, _ ” she said, and Lance couldn’t help but sympathise with the parental worry in her tone.  _ “I do not want Okkoto’s pointless plan to cause more death in my clan.”  _

“You have my word,” Lance replied, bowing at the waist. Krolia’s deep chuckle seemed to echo over the land before them. 

_ “I like you demon boy. In another time you would’ve made a fine mate for my cub,”  _ Krolia commented and Lance took that as his cue to leave, settling back under the furs easily. 

\--

Lance and Keith rode together towards Irontown, the trees flying past them as they ran with great speed. They were to meet with Lord Okkoto and his troops and ride towards the declared battlefield. Lance had never been in a fight, and he was surprised to see how many of Lord Okkoto’s soldiers had painted white markings on their hides. 

The villagers of Irontown used dirty tricks; bombs implanted into the earth that sent some of the hogs flying, rifles that felled many animals and smoke that messed with their sense of smell and made their eyes water. 

Lance lost track of both Okkoto and Keith during the battle, peeling off to pick off Lady Allura’s men with his bow and arrow. She spotted him atop the hill, and Lance could barely make out the disapproving look she was aiming at him but he didn’t feel intimidated and instead aimed an arrow at the guard that stood next to her, watching him fall to the ground with an impassive gaze. 

It was absolute madness and Lance was glad he’d pulled his mask over his nose and mouth as the air was thick with smoke. He lost his sighting of Allura and he finally spotted Ryou off to the side and directed Kaltenecker over to him. 

“Have you seen Keith?” he called to him, concern obvious in his tone. “Allura has drawn away and I’m worried he’s gone after her by himself.” 

Ryou trotted up to him, mouth agape as he panted hard.  _ “No, I saw him and Shiro aiding Okkoto into the forest as he’d become injured. We should look for him,”  _ he said, and Lance tugged on Kaltenecker’s reins gently, urging her to follow the white wolf through the trees once again. 

\-- 

Keith could feel pain racing up his leg. A stray shot from one of those  _ humans  _ had grazed his skin, causing him to limp as he led Lord Okkoto through the trees at a slow and limping pace. They had to get to the Forest Spirits lake because Keith didn’t think Okkoto would last much longer. 

“It’s just a bit farther,” he told the god, grabbing hold of one of his mighty tusks and pulling him over another set of rocks. He could see Shiro out of the corner of his eye, white fur splattered with blood and ears pricked to the sounds of the forest around them. 

Okkoto came to a stop, swaying on his feet and Keith watched as he tipped over. Blood from his many wounds seeped into the grass below him and Keith hated the sound of his rattling breaths. He scrambled over to him, not daring to touch him in case he injured him further. 

“Lord Okkoto we  _ must  _ keep going,” Keith told him desperately, dark eyes keeping an eye on the forest for any signs of threat. “If we get you to the lake the Forest Spirit might heal you!” 

_ “I doubt that child,”  _ Okkoto replied with a tired tone, his pale eyes staring off to the side as he huffed for breath.  _ “It seems that the Forest Spirit has abandoned us,”  _ he said, and Keith’s heart ached at the exhaustion and defeat in Lord Okkoto’s tone. 

A sudden rustling in the undergrowth caught his attention, drawing his dark eyes to the pathway they’d just taken. He couldn’t see much but he could just make out strange silhouettes that moved towards them. Keith glanced to Shiro questioningly, noticing that his wolf-brother was baring his teeth at the strange beings that drew closer. 

Keith slowly drew his knife, crouching low to the ground as the darkness finally revealed what they were. The humans had somehow skinned Lord Okkoto’s soldiers they had killed in the time he and Keith had escaped from the battlefield. They now wore them as disguises, their empty eye sockets dropping and the stench of them covering up their own scent. 

_ “My comrades,”  _ Lord Okkoto rasped out, his pale eyes widening in surprise,  _ “you returned to me.”  _ He began to struggle to his feet, much to Keith’s protest, and the wolf boy desperately tried to shoo the humans away. 

_ “Come, we ride into battle,”  _ Okkoto roared, his mouth suddenly gaping as a loud scream was ripped from his chest. A long stream of blood gushed from it, leaving a puddle behind as Keith swiped at the humans angrily. 

He’d never felt such visceral hate towards the humans until then, his own teeth bared in a harsh growl that reverberated in his chest. He watched desperately as Lord Okkoto moved on again, his wounds somehow worse than they had been when they halted, seeping blood into the grass below him. 

“Lord Okkoto! These aren’t your soldiers, they're  _ humans  _ please listen to me! We have to get to the Forest Spirit’s lake!” Keith cried out, running up to the boar lord’s flank and desperately grabbing at one of his tusks. He suddenly squealed again, and Keith watched in fear as great worms of corruption burst from his hide. 

Lord Okkoto yelled in pain, but it didn’t sound like him anymore, just a brainless animal. Keith desperately swiped at the black worms and he could hear Shiro growling at the humans behind him. He didn’t get time to look as he kept up with Lord Okkoto, his hands doing nothing to get rid of the corruption that now covered most of his face and snout. 

A burning pain suddenly erupted from Keith’s arm and he watched in horror as a worm of corruption burst from his own skin. He shrieked in pain, unable to hold himself up as his hand grabbed for his arm. He didn’t have to though as Okkoto suddenly swept him up onto his snout, and the fiery pain spread across his body. 

“Lance!” Keith cried, the pain making his breath hitch and his heart thundered in his ears. The fire was becoming too much to handle and Keith couldn’t make out anything through the black spots filling his vision. He could feel his hearing filtering out as his eyes slipped closed and his body fell limp, the pain overwhelming him. 

\-- 

“Lance!” 

He swivelled his head quickly, the amount of pain in that singular call setting his heart at a galloping speed. Ryou noticed it too, a whine emitting from his throat as the two of them faced in the direction it came from. Lance quickly urged Kaltenecker to follow the white wolf as he disappeared into the trees. 

Lance realised he was being led to the Forest Spirit’s lake, the sounds growing quiet as they entered the sacred space. Lance could feel something heavy on the air, it felt like despair and sadness. As they drew closer, Lance could make out footprints in the moss, human and boar alike and Ryou gave a snarl as he went faster. 

As they broke through the tree line into the Forest Spirit’s lake Lance spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. White hair told him of Allura’s presence but he paid hardly any attention to it, his blue eyes drawn to Okkoto - or at least his body. 

Black worms of corruption had sprouted across his spine and his face, and Lance could smell the iron tang of blood from where he sat atop Kaltenecker. He spotted a familiar pair of boots amongst the corruption and he willed his body to go faster as he scrambled down from Kaltenecker. 

“Keith!” he cried out, grabbing hold of the pair of pale legs and pulling. It took a bit of tugging and scraping at the worms of corruption, but Lance finally had Keith free from Lord Okkoto’s back. Quickly he dove into the Forest Spirit’s lake, allowing the water to envelop them. 

He held Keith close to his chest, watching as the worms dissipated in streams of grey into the water. When he was sure all of them were gone he kicked himself up to break through the surface of the lake. He heard Keith coughing up water but his attention was taken by the sight of the Forest Spirit turning into the Nightwalker. 

His neck stretched towards the sky, his fur disappearing into starlight as his snout reached for the clouds. A commotion off to the right caused Lance to look over, his breath hitching at the sigh of Allura aiming a rifle at the Spirit’s head. 

“Stop!” Lance shouted, watching as the Spirit turned its gaze towards the Lady of Irontown. 

Allura yelped when her gun didn’t fire, scrubbing at the plants that suddenly grew through the wood at a faster rate than she could get rid of them. “Someone shoot it!” she shouted, and Lance watched with dread as another rifleman stood from where they hid behind the bushes. 

He aimed and fired faster than Lance could protest and the bullet hit true, going through the Forest Spirit’s neck. Keith wailed, loud and long as the head suddenly flopped to the ground. Another shout, this time of pain erupted through the clearing, and Lance glanced back to watch Krolia maul the man who shot the Spirit. 

She was able to get to Allura before everything went to hell. Lance couldn’t watch as the wolf god bit off her arm gruesomely, but he could hear her shriek of pain. 

Lance and Keith watched from the water as a gel-like substance erupted from the remains of the spirit, arching up to the leaves above and turning the same colour as the corruption that still oozed from Okkoto’s body. 

Everything the gel touched seemed to die and rot. Trees fell to the ground and the grass turned brown and brittle. Lance grabbed hold of Keith’s hand to drag him to the river bank, ducking under the water to avoid the bubbles of corruption at intermittent points. 

As they climbed out of the water they noticed Allura’s men shoving the head of the Forest Spirit into a metal container and holding it between four men. Lance could feel his demon mark spreading with the contact he’d had from Okkoto and when he looked, he noticed patches of the same mark on Keith’s cheek and neck. 

“We need to give the head back,” Lance cried out over the sound of the forest dying, addressing both Keith and Krolia who had joined them as they watched the corruption through the trees. 

“We can’t, the spirit’s dead. And how’re we going to catch up with them?” Keith said bitterly, pointing in the direction the men had gone. Krolia answered that silently, crouching down on her haunches and gesturing for them to climb on. The two of them clambered up, directing Kaltenecker and the two other wolves to find a place high above ground and to stay safe as they chased after the soldiers quickly.

Lance yelped as they leapt over a stream of corruption, the gel just inches from his boots but they continued on. They spotted the container carrying the head between four men, the bright colour of the soldier’s clothing eye catching amongst the sea of black that was steadily approaching them. They struggled up a steep incline, and Lance could see their grip on the container faltering. 

“Give it back!” Lance shouted at them, recognising one as Varkon. But they didn’t seem to hear him or decided to ignore him completely as they continued up the hillside. “Give it back its head!” 

They watched in abject horror as the men clambered atop a rock, one of them falling victim to the gel as it swept past them. Krolia ran up the hillside, avoiding the corruption and clambering on top of the rock with ease. Lance and Keith quickly slid down her back watching as Varkon laid himself across the top of the container. 

“Open it,” Lance snapped at him as Keith aimed his knife at his neck. The man swallowed hard, eyes bright with fear as the two of them drew closer. “Open it,  _ now _ ,” he repeated, drawing his own blade from its sheath and placing it under his chin.

Varkon lifted his hands gently from the container, his face pale as the two of them stepped forward. The head floated in the same gel like substance that now covered most of the forest, and Lance looked up at Keith in question. The wolf boy nodded before the two of them dipped their fingers into the box and drew out the head. 

It dripped onto their arms and faces, and Lance could feel pain spreading over his cheeks and he knew it was enhancing the demon mark. He wrapped his arm around Keith’s waist, drawing him closer as they watched the Nightwalker’s form crest over the hill. 

“Forest Spirit!” Lance called as they stretched their arms further. “We give back your head!” 

The two of them watched in anticipation as the form bent over them, and Lance turned his head to press his forehead against Keith’s and squeeze his eyes shut as the Nightwalker enveloped them. It was cold and Lance felt like he couldn’t move, as if he were frozen in place. He could sense when the Spirit took back its head as the weight disappeared from the palms of his hands. 

He opened his eyes when the presence suddenly disappeared, and his eyes were met with a beautiful sight. The forest that had turned brown and rotted because of the Forest Spirit’s corruption had been practically erased, leaving behind greenery and flowers. Lance even caught sight of Irontown covered in leaves and branches, as if it was taking back what had been stolen from it. 

Lance grasped Keith’s hand tightly, a bright smile on his face as the two took in the healed forest. There was a sense of something missing, and Lance realised that the Forest Spirit had died when he’d taken his head back, and that the wolf clan and the boar clan would be reduced to the base instincts that were attributed to livestock. 

Lance could see the relief in Keith’s eyes however, and he knew that they could fix the corruption in this small part of the world, at least enough to keep the forest alive and well. 


	4. I Will Love You Till My Dying Day - Moulin Rouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return,' he typed, the sounds of the mechanisms in his typewriter achingly loud in the quiet of the apartment. He halted when he heard movement from the bed, but Keith didn’t stir once he’d settled again. 
> 
> 'I arrived in Paris with nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and the typewriter in my bag,' Lance began, his mind conjuring the city as it had been a year ago as his fingers began to fly over the keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you lovely humans! 
> 
> I'm back again! This is the second movie of Baz Luhrmann I'm writing about and I honestly think I have an obsession with his style of film making. Moulin Rouge is honestly the best romance movie I've seen in a while and I love both Satine and Christian and their ending is so sad. So, I've changed the ending because I think they deserve better and here we are. 
> 
> Please do leave a kudos or even a comment! Us authors do love to see what you think of our work and I would really appreciate the feedback! 
> 
> Also, just a warning their is an attempted rape in this chapter as it is Moulin Rouge so the passage begins with: "Until suddenly the Duke was lunging for Keith's arm..." and ends at "The cold of the night air was bracing". Please do mind yourselves and skip that little passage if you need. 
> 
> (Also words in bold are sung if that's not obvious by the writing XD) 
> 
> I hope you're keeping happy, safe and sane during these crazy times <3

It was the time for bohemian thinking in France, a time where beauty, truth, freedom and love were at the forefront. It was also a time where the district of Montmartre was seen as a hubbub of activity and wonder. It was just as Lance remembered it all those years ago. 

He sat in the small apartment they’d rented for the month, one that resided over a bar that was frequented by the locals. His typewriter was set up next to the window, pages fluttering in the late evening wind. He settled before it with his correcting paint at the ready and, because he’d been commanded by a certain someone, his top hat on his head. But he was distracted, his eyes lying on the figure under the bed clothes rather than the page. 

He couldn’t help it, the moonlight was slanting into the room at just the right angle that it glanced off pale cheeks and dark hair. The swell of his ass was accented by the covers that laid over his back, the dip of his hips almost tantalising to Lance. He couldn’t join Keith though, the publishers were expecting the first draft in two months and if he didn’t get going now he doubted he’d have it finished in time. 

_ The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return, _ he typed, the sounds of the mechanisms in his typewriter achingly loud in the quiet of the apartment. He halted when he heard movement from the bed, but Keith didn’t stir once he’d settled again. 

_ I arrived in Paris with nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and the typewriter in my bag,  _ Lance began, his mind conjuring the city as it had been a year ago as his fingers began to fly over the keys. 

\-- 

Lance calmly placed his typewriter on the table next to the window before sitting down in the chair he’d pulled from the corner of the room. It was a particularly warm May day so he’d forgone the coattails he’d worn on arriving in Paris. His hat still sat perched on his head however, and he poised his fingers over the keys almost waiting for inspiration to hit him. 

Nothing, for once his mind was blank. Which surprised him greatly as he’d seen so many interesting things on the journey over that would surely spark something. 

He huffed out a sigh, turning his gaze out the window to watch the bustling street below. He came here to  _ write,  _ completely against his father’s wishes, but what was the point of the journey if he had no inspiration whatsoever? 

A sudden crash startled him, sending him falling sideways as a person burst through his ceiling. Lance pulled himself up from the floor with a groan, watching as the other did the same. 

“Oh I’m so sorry,” the other - a man - said, hurrying over to help Lance to his feet. “We were practising for our play and the wood must’ve rotted during the winter and I must’ve stepped on a weak part.” And indeed when Lance glanced up to the ceiling a large hole greeted him, mold clinging to the edge of the wooden planks.

Two faces peered down at them, one wearing large glasses and both almost identical to each other. 

“You alright there Hunk?” one asked, almost leaning down to the floor below. 

“Yeah, sorry about that Matt. We should’ve checked the integrity before trying the big parts,” the man, Hunk, replied, rubbing the back of his head. “And sorry again about your ceiling.” 

“No, no you’re fine,” Lance waved off with a laugh, “I always wanted a skylight.” 

“We were just practising for our new play and, coincidentally, we need someone to read for the goat herd,” the other person said, and Lance could see their eager look from where he stood. “Would you like to try?” 

And that’s how he found himself perched on top of a painted mountain, his top hat replaced with a fedora and his waistcoat flung to the floor. He watched as the three of them - Hunk, Matt and Pidge as they’d introduced themselves as - argue over the lyrics of a specific song. 

As Lance stood there he realised that none of their suggestions were right, and some sounded downright awful. He spent a few minutes thinking about them himself, rolling the words in his mouth as did when he was writing on his own. None of them noticed his expression lighting up in surprise and realisation. 

“E-Excuse me?” Lance called, trying to get their attention. None of them turned their heads, too deep into their discussion that they didn’t realise they were needed. Lance tried a few more times, huffing in annoyance when they didn’t even notice his flailing arms, until finally he’d had enough. 

**“The hills are alive, with the sound of music,”** he sang, his clear voice carrying through the room and finally silencing the others. They stared at him in awe for a few seconds before racing to the piano and trying it out for themselves. 

“Brilliant!” Matt cried out, a joyous smile on his lips. “How did you come up with that?”

“W-Well I’m a writer,” Lance said, ducking his head in slight embarrassment at having all the attention on him. “I write poems and books for a living. Well, none of them have been published but some of them are pretty good in my opinion.” His voice trailed off a bit, the pairs of eyes on him slightly unnerving. 

“With a writer on our team we could finally get Shiro to approve our play,” Pidge suddenly said, excitement gleaming in her eyes. 

“We tried that already, remember?” Matt intervened. “He had us turfed out for the night when we bothered him too much. He’s not putting on a production unless it’s sponsored.” 

“What about Keith? If we get Lance into a private meeting with him maybe he could get him to change Shiro’s mind,” Pidge said. 

“What, and wait three months to get into the room with him? No way,” Matt brushed off, rolling his eyes. 

“We wouldn’t have to wait if we asked Allura. I know she owes me a favour for the show piece I composed for her, and I’m sure she could get us a meeting,” Hunk piped up, and Lance felt like he was looking in on a conversation he couldn’t be part of. 

“Now that’s an idea,” Matt murmured, and Lance suddenly had all their attention once again as they stared at him critically. “How do you feel about courtesans?” 

\--

The Moulin Rouge was a colourful, loud building with extravagant decorations and costumes. Lance felt as if he’d stepped into a fever dream as the doors opened. He’d been stuffed into a proper white tie suit, his tails pressed to perfection and top hat sat jauntily atop his head. 

“Right so we managed to snag a meeting with Keith at the end of the night,” Matt told the group. “Lance you’ll get in there and charm him, get him interested in the play. There is meant to be a Duke here tonight as well so it might be good to see if we can get him in on the sponsorship.” 

“Doesn’t that seem a bit of a far fetched plan?” Lance asked worriedly. 

“All our plans are either half baked or far fetched,” Pidge commented as the group pushed their way through the crowd and up into the booths. “This one is just a bit more formulated than usual.” 

“Keith usually does his set around midnight, so we’ll have to keep an eye out for that Duke if we want to talk to him,” Matt commented, craning his neck to see across the dance floor. 

Glancing at his pocket watch Lance saw that it was currently half past eleven so they didn’t have long to wait for this elusive Keith figure. And honestly he didn’t mind sitting in the booth watching, he could feel his palms become clammy with nerves and his heart thunder in his ears. He wasn’t really looking forward to this. 

Matt kept the drinks coming, but Lance didn’t touch anything but a glass of champagne which he slowly but surely made his way through. It wouldn’t do for him to be drunk during a potential business meeting, and this could be big for him if he was able to negotiate something. It could be his very first commission. 

The host was very eye-catching, his tuft of white hair almost cloud-like in the lighting within the building. He commanded the room easily, his voice projecting to the back of the room. The champagne must’ve been going to Lance’s head because the term ‘bouncing off the walls’ suddenly came to mind. He giggled quietly to himself. 

The dancers finished their dramatical and confusing rendition of the Can Can, stepping off to the side of the stage quickly. Lance took notice of how loads of men and women clamoured around the small stage that stood at the end of the dance floor, a spotlight centred on the black curtains that slowly peeled back. 

A silence fell over the entire club as the most beautiful being Lance had ever seen was revealed. He hardly noticed Matt whispering in his ear as he took in the figure displayed before them. He wore black slacks that seemed perfectly tailored to show the shapeliness of his ass, the fabric practically clinging to his curves. He was topless but they must’ve oiled his chest or done  _ something  _ because his pale skin seemed to glisten in the artificial light. He held his arms elegantly above him and Lance could see that his biceps were well defined, and he was practically salivating at this point. 

His dark hair was tied in a small ponytail at the base of his head that was covered with a black felt top hat tied with a red ribbon that trailed down his back. His face was tilted to the ceiling and Lance watched as his pink lips opened to croon the first lyrics of his set, sending a shiver down Lance’s spine. 

**“The French, are glad to die for love,”** he sang, his quiet and low tone echoing through the club effortlessly. The band began to play finally, breaking the anxious atmosphere as the girls who had stood waiting at the side suddenly stepped forward to join him. The song was faster than Lance anticipated, but he soon realised why as the man - Keith - suddenly threw himself into a set of complicated dance moves that kept all eyes on him. 

The song that oozed from Keith’s lips radiated sex, and it seemed he knew it as he winked and smirked at the crowd that surrounded him. He’d since stepped off the small stage, the crowd parting for the group as they danced the length of the floor. Lance was suddenly distracted by Matt tapping his shoulder. 

“That’s the Duke,” he said, pointing to Lance’s left. A man sat in the booth beside theirs, his white hair and pale skin accented by the deep purple suit and top hat he wore. He noticed the two of them staring at him and gracefully rose his champagne glass in greeting. “He’s the one we need to convince for funding.” 

“How do we do that?” Lance asked, turning his head back to Matt with questioning blue eyes. “He probably won’t want to talk to us bohemians.” 

“Watch and learn my friend,” Matt replied, finishing his glass in one gulp and confidently making his way over to the Duke. Pidge stood from her seat as well, probably to go do damage control seeing as her brother was more than tipsy. 

Across the dance floor, Keith was thriving on the crowd’s energy. His dancing was becoming fast and flamboyant as the music picked up pace. He could see the ribbon on his hat fluttering behind him elusively and he smiled through his lyrics, almost drunk on the adrenaline bubbling through his veins. 

In the middle of the piece to give him and the girls a break, they’d clamber onto a raised platform where a piece of fabric would be lifted to keep him from view so he could catch his breath and pull on a black sheer short sleeved shirt and have a quick discussion with Shiro about the client for that night. 

_ Speak of the devil and he shall appear,  _ Keith thought to himself as Shiro crouched on his haunches. His fingers were cold against Keith’s skin as he tugged on the piece of clothing, the oil that had been spread over his chest sticking to the fabric. 

“The Duke is here tonight,” Shiro said, his expression almost triumphant. “He sounds as if he’s ready to invest.” 

Keith’s lips split into a wide cheeky smile at that news. “What do I need to do to seal the deal?” he asked, considering whether to button his shirt, considering whether to forgo the trouble. He mentally shrugged, adjusting his collar quickly

“I think just...talk with him,” Shiro said, but Keith could make out the suggestiveness in his tone. 

“Which one is he?” Keith asked, tempted to crane his neck to get a good look at him.

“The one Matt is speaking to,” Shiro replied with great confidence and Keith leaned to the side to take a quick peek. Matt seemed to be speaking almost desperately with a tall lanky man, his short brown hair curling in wisps around his ears. When he turned, Keith found himself entranced by his bright blue eyes but he shoved those rising emotions down into his stomach, plastering a suggestive smirk on his lips. 

“I got it,” he murmured in Shiro’s ear, standing to continue his set with great vigour. He directed his movements where he wanted the girls to go, keeping the energy of the song with his voice as he leapt up to the steps leading to the booths two at a time. He could see the Duke’s bright blue eyes widen once he realised Keith was coming in his direction and the courtesan smiled almost sultrily, his shirt flapping open to reveal his - what Shiro described as - sculpted chest. 

The song finally finished and Keith leaned down slowly, unaware of the surprised look he was getting from the man in the booth next to them.

“I believe you asked for me?” he whispered in the man’s ear, and something within him couldn’t help but laugh at the nervous flush that came to his cheeks as the Duke nodded. “Meet me in the Elephant at one.” 

And with that Keith left him to it, making his way back to the small stage at the end of the dance floor to say his final ‘farewell’ in style. At least until the next night where he’d have to do it again, and the next and the next. 

He found that as he changed out of his clothes his mind kept drifting to the Duke’s gorgeous blue eyes, at how they seemed to sparkle in the light. 

In the few seconds he’d seen the Duke he realised the man had probably never done this sort of thing before, and that the reason why he was blushing was because he was nervous. So Keith pulled out the singular white shirt he had, his loose black slacks and the corset he usually wore for comfort. As a courtesan he had to keep up the image of his waist and his hips so he tightened the contraption as he saw fit, leaving his shoes and socks off. 

He positioned himself next to the table, pouring two glasses of wine and taking a swig from one of them. He could feel his eyelids drooping in exhaustion but he forced them open, thinking of his gorgeous bed where he could lie in till midday once the Duke had been convinced to support the Moulin Rouge. 

He heard the door open behind him, and Keith turned around. He delicately held the glass between his fingertips, leaning his weight on one leg as he pinned the other man with his dark eyes. He could see his nerves in the way he fiddled with his hat, and Keith sauntered up to him with the other glass, handing it to him and intentionally letting their fingers brush against each other. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Keith asked quietly and huskily, not wanting to startle the man but then again he had to play it up a bit. This  _ was  _ the person that was going to fund the club. 

“Oh, yes I thought it was quite good,” the other replied, strategically stepping away from Keith and to the opposite side of the table. “I enjoyed your song,” he said, taking a large gulp of wine and wiping his palms against the fabric of his trousers. 

“A little birdie told me you wanted to talk to me about a play?” Keith asked, lounging on the covers of the bed. He pinned the Duke with a curious look, raising a brow in askance. “I’d very much like to hear it.” 

“Oh, yes the play,” the other said, scrambling to place his glass on the table and Keith watched in confusion as he tugged out sheets of paper, some of which fluttered to the floor. 

Keith gracefully stood from the bed, crouching down and grabbing them before strategically drawing himself up along the Duke’s body, the fabric of their clothes brushing together. The courtesan could hear the other’s breath hitching, and Keith realised he was half a head smaller than him. 

“What should I call you? Your title is way too formal for this situation,” Keith murmured, his dark eyes captured by the sky blues before him that he barely noticed the confusion that flickered through them. 

“Lance,” the other said, and Keith whispered his name with a languid smile before stepping away to sit on the bed once again. He folded his legs and gazed at Lance with his dark eyes. 

“It’s actually only a few poems and lyrics,” Lance said, gesturing to the pages in his hands, and Keith furrowed his brows in slight confusion before he realised what the other was insinuating. 

“Oh,” Keith purred as he placed his wine glass off to the side and propped himself up on his elbows, his toes barely scraping the carpet of the floor. He watched as Lance turned towards the large window that faced the windmill. Keith knew he couldn’t make any noises that would be considered too raucy as the Duke seemed to be a very nervous person. He suspected that the other was a virgin but he didn’t feel it was his place to ask. 

“It’s a little bit funny,” Lance began, and Keith watched his broad shoulders with keen eyes. “This feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.” 

Keith let his eyes flutter shut, lifting his hips in a debauched position with his neck bared as Lance continued. He felt slightly strange doing this to such gorgeous lyrics, the beauty of the words whirling around his head almost throwing him off. 

**“My gift is my song,”** Lance suddenly sang out, his voice clear as a bell, halting Keith and drawing his dark eyes to the Duke as he turned to face him. **“And this one’s for you.”**

Keith drew himself up from the bedcovers, his eyes focused on Lance as the other grasped his hands and pulled him to standing. He could practically feel himself falling for him, and he was already too far gone to stop it. He felt himself captured by Lance’s bright blue eyes as he sang to him, the lyrics transporting him to another realm as the Duke drew him closer. 

Keith knew his mouth was open in astonishment but he didn’t seem to care as Lance spun the two of them in place, the lyrics washing over Keith in a tidal wave that swept him up. 

**“I hope you don’t mind,”** Lance crooned, pressing his forehead against Keith’s and holding his eyes captive,  **“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.”**

Keith found himself being dipped, and he didn’t protest as they held that position for a few seconds. Keith could feel his heart practically beating out of his chest, and he felt such an urge to press his mouth to Lance’s that he had to bite his tongue to hold himself back. 

“That was gorgeous Duke,” he whispered, a sweet smile on his lips. He saw the confused furrow in Lance’s eyebrows. 

“I’m not a Duke,” he told Keith and something in his chest panged at his expression falling and he pulled the two of them upright. “No, I’m a writer.” 

Keith stepped away from Lance with a worried expression on his face, realisation turning his blood to ice in his veins. “Oh don’t tell me you’re one of Matt’s bohemian friends,” he said and Lance could only helplessly nod as Keith raked his fingers through his hair. 

“So if you’re not the Duke then--” he was suddenly interrupted by the knob of the door turning as it was thrown open and Shiro’s voice echoed through the room. “Hide!” Keith hissed, pushing Lance towards the table to crouch behind it as he leant against one of the marble pillars. 

“Keith! This is the Duke, Lotor,” Shiro introduced and Keith smiled sultrily, taking in the man’s almost hungry expression as the other took his form in. “He wants to talk to you about the sponsorship.” 

“Of course, do come in my Lord Duke,” Keith said, sweeping over to the table to pour him a glass of wine. He tilted his head in the direction of the door when he caught Lance’s gaze, telling him almost desperately to leave. Unfortunately Lance spotted what looked like a guard just outside the room and he shook his head vigorously. Keith rolled his eyes before quickly turning back to Lotor, irritation bubbling in his stomach. 

“So, you’re thinking of sponsoring our little club?” Keith asked, already knowing the answer but not really sure how to start the conversation. He didn’t know whether the man wanted to talk or whether he wanted him on the bed. He held out the wine for him anyway. 

“Yes, a friend of mine told me of the...immense talent the Moulin Rouge had to offer,” Lotor replied, his eyes roving over Keith’s frame. He was suddenly grateful he hadn’t gone for the lace black shirt that sat in the closet. 

“Oh yes we have many talented performers in the Moulin Rouge,” Keith said, stepping around the Duke so that his back was towards Lance. “In fact, we’re planning on putting on a show so that the masses get a taste of what we can do.” 

“Ah yes, Shiro did mention something of that sort,” Lotor said, and Keith’s gaze jumped from his to watch Lance attempt to creep towards the window. “Any thoughts yet on the plot?” 

“Not as of yet but we do have some writers on the job,” Keith commented. An almighty crash from behind him drew Keith’s attention and he stared in astonishment and slight exasperation at the sight of Matt, Hunk and Pidge on the floor with Shiro standing over them. 

“Are these the writers?” Lotor asked with an amused look, and Keith scrambled for a few seconds. Matt suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands, standing from his position on the floor and puffing out his chest in pride. 

“Yes, we are the writers. And boy do we have a story for you,” he exclaimed, drawing Lotor’s attention to him as Hunk sneakily grabbed Lance by the arm and dragging him over to them. Keith sighed mentally in exasperation but joined in as the group explained what was obviously a plot that was made up on the fly. 

It turned into being about a courtesan, a sitar player and a maharaja being placed in the weirdest love triangle he’d ever heard but he went along with it anyway, the group watching as the Duke’s smile grew larger and larger as the story continued. Keith also found himself having fun, but he didn’t get to ruminate on it. 

They finally managed to shepherd the Duke out and somehow it ended up being just Lance and Keith remaining. Keith found himself captured by those blue eyes again, his breath hitching slightly when Lance grabbed his hand. 

“When will I see you again?” he asked, his gaze almost desperately lovesick but Keith couldn’t deny that he was probably just as bad. 

“Tomorrow at the rehearsal,” he whispered, and wasn’t that a novel thing to say, he thought to himself. 

“No, I mean alone,” Lance replied, his own voice dropping to a whisper too. Keith chuckled quietly, thinking he was joking but he saw the way Lance’s eyes held no mirth and something in his chest fluttered as he gently bit his lip. 

“Tomorrow, meet me here before my set at midnight,” he told him, their foreheads pressed together again. Keith found himself wanting to hold onto this moment for a bit longer but he forced himself to push Lance away, afraid someone might burst in and discover them. 

Lance left with the largest smile on his face. 

\-- 

The next few days Lance spent darting between his tiny flat to the Moulin Rouge, sheets of paper tucked under his arm. He had never written so much in his life, the typewriter he’d brought with him was almost a constant sound now and he had had more than a few complaints at its noise. He’d taken to writing at night either glancing towards the elephant room where he could barely make out Keith’s silhouette or to where the courtesan would sometimes sit next to Pidge on his bed, adding his own two scents for the plot. 

It was the weirdest play Lance had ever written and the further in he got, the more he realised how much it reminded him of his own situation at that moment. The sitar player’s jealousy at the maharaja was mirrored in how Lance would sometimes glare at the back of Lotor’s head when he hovered over Keith’s shoulder. 

The Duke had taken to sitting in on rehearsals, watching from the booth he’d sat in that first night with a leering look on his face. And if Lance paid attention he’d notice that his gaze always seemed to be centred on Keith. That never failed to anger Lance, and more than once did Hunk have to grab hold of him with a tight grip on his wrist, preventing him from storming over and socking the man in the face. 

It was obvious Keith didn’t believe that the affections Lance had for him were completely genuine. He’d laugh at his antics when he’d try to inadvertently proclaim his love through the script of his play, or would bat his hand away when Lance would present him with a small trinket or gift he’d found at the market. Each flippant brush of Keith’s hand would send a pang of determination through Lance’s chest, and he’d come back the next day with something different. 

He’d finally had enough of being teased by the end of the second week, his anger near a breaking point which turned into sass. He’d grabbed the key to the elephant room from Shiro - who’d also been privy to Lance’s attempts to woo Keith and was very supportive of his attempts - and got inside before Keith came back from his singing rehearsal. 

Lance knew how bedraggled he must look but as the knob on the door turned slowly he realised he didn’t really care. Keith jolted slightly in surprise when he opened the door, his hand making an aborted movement to come up to his chest. 

“What are you  _ doing  _ here?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper as he strode over to Lance. “Did Shiro give you the key? I swear to god if he did he’s dead me--” 

Their lips suddenly crashed together, the urge too much for Lance to handle as his hands came up to cradle the back of Keith’s head and neck. The other didn’t protest, in fact Lance could feel him leaning in to the kiss. It suddenly felt like a challenge of who was going to retreat for oxygen first, but when they did break away Lance found he couldn’t look away from Keith’s dark eyes. 

“I’ve wanted to do that all week,” Lance murmured, his fingers brushing away a strand of Keith’s hair from his eyes. Keith laughed quietly. 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said, stepping away from Lance who noticed the slight furrow in his brow. Keith suddenly started towards the open window, his teeth snagging onto his bottom lip. 

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked, following him as he climbed a set of steps that had been cleverly hidden by the ear of the elephant. A structure, which when Lance wracked his brain finally realised was named a howdah, sat on top, the red cushions looking so comfortable but it was obvious they weren’t up here to sit and chat. 

Lance couldn’t help it as his eyes snagged on Keith’s gorgeous dark hair, and he stepped forward boldly, his hand snagging the other’s chin and gently tilting it so that the two of them locked gazes. He could feel the gentle flutter of Keith’s breath on his knuckle and Lance had to bite his tongue to stop himself from lunging forward again. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Lance murmured, watching as Keith’s eyes glittered in the evening light, “you know that, right?” 

Keith ducked his head taking an aborted step backwards. “You know I can’t love you, don’t you?” he asked quietly, and Lance barely held back the flicker of hurt that darted across his features. 

“Why? What’s stopping you?” Lance asked, his tone genuine even as Keith looked at him incredulously. The other suddenly started laughing loudly, but it wasn’t the one Lance had come to adore so much. That one sounded like the Notre Dame bells at midday mass, unafraid and unconcerned of how it sounded. This one, it was bitter and almost self deprecating and Lance hated how it sounded coming out of Keith’s mouth. 

“Lance, I’m a courtesan. My job is to sleep with multiple men and women. If I were to be in a relationship with you, you wouldn’t be able to get over the jealousy,” Keith told him, and Lance could see tears glistening in his dark eyes. 

“You talk as if you have experience with that sort of thing,” Lance commented, and Keith chuckled wetly. “I’m different, I won’t get jealous.” 

Keith glanced back at his with a disbelieving look, scoffing quietly to himself as Lance scrambled to explain himself. 

**“All you need is love,”** he suddenly sang, and Keith’s eyes turned disapproving as the other grabbed his hands, Lance cradling them as if they were jewels.  **“All you need is love.”**

“A guy’s gotta eat,” Keith suddenly protested, ripping his hands free as Lance crooned the lyrics again and turning his gaze to the other, taking in his almost giddy expression with a tiny smile.  **“Love is just a game.”**

**“I was made for lovin’ you baby, you were made for loving me,”** Lance suddenly belted out, his expression a picture as he swung himself around the pillar of the howdah, drawing more than a few strange looks from the passersby below. 

**“The only way of loving me baby, is to pay a lovely fee,”** Keith shot back still trying to push Lance away, but he couldn’t deny the smile that was inching its way up his cheeks and the warm heat that emitted from his chest. 

**“Just one night, give me just one night,”** Lance sang, a wide stupid smile on his face, knowing he was getting through to Keith little by little. 

**“There’s no way, ‘cause you can’t pay,”** Keith said, attempting to furrow his brows at Lance and failing as he watched the other laugh at him, the sound loud and free on the muggy Paris evening. 

**“In the name of love, one night in the name of love,”** Lance sang, watching as Keith ducked his head slightly, a blush inching its way up the courtesan’s face. 

**“You crazy fool, I won’t give in to you,”** Keith sang, his determined tone faltering slightly as he realised he was actually enjoying himself but his feet taking a small step towards the staircase into the elephant. 

**“Don’t leave me this way,”** Lance suddenly sang, afraid that Keith would go,  **“I can’t survive without your sweet love, oh baby, don’t leave me this way.”**

He watched with bated breath as Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, his jaw dropping slightly in surprise at the genuity in Lance’s gaze. He could feel something bubbling in his chest and he attempted to shove it down again but to no avail as he glanced down at the citizens below them. 

**“You think people would’ve had enough of silly love songs,”** he crooned, his tone almost sad as the wind gently ruffled his dark hair. 

**“Well what’s wrong with that, I’d like to know,”** Lance sang, his blue eyes filled with mirth as he made his way over to Keith.  **“‘Cause here I go again,”** he sang and suddenly he was standing atop the glass dome on the elephant’s head and Keith shouted in fright, worried for Lance’s safety. 

**“Love lifts us up where we belong,”** Lance belted out again, his voice carrying as he continued,  **“where eagles fly, on a mountain high.”** He turned around on his precarious perch grinning wildly at Keith, all teeth and gums as the other laughed in disbelief. 

**“Love makes us act like we are fools,”** Keith sang out, gesturing towards Lance with a smile,  **“Throw our lives away, for one happy day.”** Keith watched with amusement as Lance threw his arms out in jubilance, the courtesan unable to deny the warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach, or the burning passion in his chest. 

**“We could be heroes!”** Lance sang out his grin growing larger as he continued, watching as Keith suddenly made his way towards the steps into the elephant and he quickly followed.  **“Just for one day.”**

**“You, you will be mean,”** Keith accused quietly as Lance denied it, watching as he made his way into the main room once again.  **“And I, I’ll drink all the time.”**

**“We should be lovers,”** Lance sang, knowing that Keith was realising his excuses were becoming weak. 

**“We can’t do that,”** Keith weakly denied, averting his eyes from Lance’s eager gaze. 

**“We should be lovers,”** Lance insisted, walking towards Keith and taking his hands once again,  **“And that’s a fact.”**

**“Though nothing will keep us together,”** Keith tried as a last resort, realising that arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere. 

**“We could steal time, just for one day,”** Lance sang, placing their foreheads together as they sang the last bit together, their voices perfectly blending together as shivers ran up and down their spines. Lance felt as if fireworks were erupting in his stomach as they sang to each other, the adoration in Keith’s eyes almost overwhelming. 

**“How wonderful life is,”** Keith sang quietly and Lance joined him for the last line, their eyes locked on each other,  **“now you’re in the world.”**

**\--**

Rehearsals continued much the same as before, except for the fact that Keith and Lance would try to find any reason or excuse to peel away from the main group to have a few minutes together didn’t go unnoticed by Matt, Pidge or Hunk. Thankfully Lotor didn’t seem to notice, the Duke being too focussed on the play and its production. 

Keith suddenly began to feel as if he were acting his age, the weight of his job and what he’d become lifting off his shoulders in the face of this brand new emotion that burned through his veins whenever he caught a glimpse of Lance. 

Of course he had to keep up his facade, pleasing the Duke by going to dinner with him every so often. But he spent most of his evenings with Lance and the other bohemians, laughing over an empty wine bottle as they continued developing the story of the sitar player and the courtesan. 

“How does it end?” Lotor asked one day, the troop halting where they were discussing the blocking for when the two lovers would meet. He sat on a single wooden chair facing the stage, his legs crossed and expression purely curious. 

The four writers suddenly scrambled for what to say, stumbling over each other before Lance finally spoke up louder than the other three. 

“The courtesan and the sitar player run away from the maharaja to marry and live happily ever after,” he said quickly and decisively, his blue eyes darting over to Keith as the Duke nodded approvingly, not noticing the dynamic between the two on stage. 

“Are we sticking with that idea?” Keith questioned Lance quietly when the attention was drawn off of them as the stage hands fixed a part of the set, pulling him over to a shadowed part of the ballroom. 

“Unless the maharaja changes his mind about it, yes,” Lance replied, his smile practically cheshire wide. “And really I doubt he has any thought to change it as he doesn’t realise what it means. I don’t think anything could get through to that head of hair apart from praise.” 

Lance chuckled at his own joke as Keith hit his shoulder lightly, craning his neck to make sure no one heard them. 

“Actually, you know what?” Lotor’s voice suddenly echoed through the ballroom, halting the work on the stage and the silence to fall over the room like a blanket. “I don’t like that ending.” 

Lance and Keith glanced at each other in anxiousness, worried they’d been found out. They watched as Lotor climbed the first set of stairs at the stage, gesturing to the set and the props around him. 

“I think the maharaja should get the courtesan at the end. It makes for a way better plotline because it shows the harsh reality we live in,” Lotor said, his tone dripping with something neither Keith nor Lance could make out. The Duke now had a smile that was inching towards being a sneer making its way up his cheeks.

“Yes, I think that’s the ending we’ll go with,” he said with a clap of his hands, and Lance glanced desperately over at Pidge, Hunk and Matt who stood at the piano. Keith also looked to Shiro, and the other could clearly make out the fear in his gaze. 

“But My Lord Duke, surely there’s a way to keep this ending? The writers have worked on it for weeks now and the opening is in a matter of days,” Shiro protested but Lotor waved his hand flippantly, his expression unaffected by Shiro’s reasoning. 

“Just have them rewrite it tonight,” he said, “or are they unable to because they’re so...busy?” At this Lance could see that the Duke’s gaze cut over to the two of them, and a shiver ran up his spine at the anger that lay dormant in his dark eyes. 

Keith squeezed Lance’s hand gently before quickly making his way across the ballroom floor to grab hold of the Duke’s elbow and pull him gently to a stop. He could see something in Lotor’s gaze soften when he realised who had halted him and Keith knew he could use that to his advantage. 

“How about you and I have supper tonight, and we can discuss the ending of the play, hm?” Keith asked, dropping his voice low and sultry. “Just the two of us?” 

There was no hesitance as Lotor nodded his head, whispering for what time Keith should come to his room in his ear before leaving with a flick of his coattails. The others suddenly surrounded him, each with a concerned look on their faces as they bombarded him with multiple questions. 

“I’m going to talk to the Duke about the ending during supper tonight. Hopefully I can convince him to see reason before dessert,” Keith joked, but Lance could see the worry in his dark eyes, his hand slipping into his easily.

Shiro’s eyebrows raised in surprise, the only one to notice the movement out of the people gathered, but Keith swiftly waved him off with a small gesture of his free hand. He was also quick to tell him of how their relationship had come to be once rehearsal was finished, leaving out how Lance had convinced him through song as it would be the one thing Shiro would focus on - and probably tease him about until they were both old and wrinkly. 

The rest of rehearsal dragged as they were only able to do the blocking for the earlier scenes with the ending up in the air. Keith found his eyes glancing to the door of the ballroom, expecting the Duke to burst in and call out both Lance and Keith for their infidelity and drag them apart. He knew the thought was ridiculous, and that Lotor had no such control over them but it didn’t stop him from becoming slightly jumpy. 

The time finally came for him to be dressed and ready, the whole cast and crew anxiously waiting for him to return to the ballroom. He dressed in his black shirt, red waistcoat and simple black trousers. He let his hair hang free, the dark tresses ruffling in the wind as he crossed the courtyard to Lotor’s room. 

It used to be a storage building where they put all the costumes and props they’d use for shows but it seemed that the Duke had ordered it to be redecorated. Keith couldn’t see hide nor hair of any of their old costumes, the sets and props replaced with a large black fireplace, a long table in the middle of the room whose wood was bending under the amount of food laid upon it. 

Lotor greeted him politely, gesturing for him to sit at the opposite end of the table. 

“I was very surprised that you invited me for dinner. I hope it’s not just to talk business,” Lotor told him over the rim of his glass. Keith smiled at him, the mask of the courtesan snapping into place. 

“Shall we see how dinner goes?” he replied with a cheeky tone, and Lotor’s chuckle echoed as Keith took the first bite of his food. 

Keith knew how to please a person, it’s what he did to earn his coin after all. So it didn’t take long for him to have Lotor around his little finger. The two of them chatted amiably during the first and main course, and it wasn’t until dessert was set before them that Keith broached the subject of the play. 

“Now, about that ending?” he asked, slim fingers placing a strawberry between his teeth as Lotor shook his head with a laugh. 

“Oh you naughty minx,” he commented quietly, and Keith watched as he delicately wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. Lotor kept his eyes on Keith as he stood to round the table, his dark gaze intimidating as the Duke held out his hand for Keith to take. 

They stepped out onto the balcony, the air heavy with smog but the wind freeing. It lifted Keith’s fringe from his forehead, the cool air soothing his warm skin as Lotor turned to face him. 

“I will consider changing the ending if,” and at this Lotor bent forward so that his mouth was inches away from the shell of Keith’s ear as he whispered his terms. Normally Keith wouldn’t flinch at what Lotor was telling him, it was standard because of how he presented himself in the Moulin Rouge. However at that moment he glanced down to the courtyard below, eyes catching on Lance’s slim form as he walked home. 

“No,” Keith whispered, his voice carried by the wind and halting Lotor’s words in his throat. The Duke stepped back, taking in Keith’s defiant expression. 

“What?” Lotor asked quietly, dangerously and his tone sent a shiver up Keith’s spine. 

“I won’t,” Keith said, this time louder and more determined in the face of the Duke’s obvious anger. Everything seemed to stop for what felt like minutes but were only seconds as Keith stood his ground against Lotor’s obvious anger. 

Until suddenly the Duke was lunging for Keith’s arm, his grip tight and painful against Keith’s skin. He scrambled in vain, nails scratching at Lotor’s fingers as he was dragged inside and practically thrown onto the bed. 

Keith scooted backwards until he hit the headboard, eyes wide with fear as the Duke ripped open his shirt with a ferocity Keith had never seen before. Lotor seemed to pause to take in Keith as he was, wide eyed and terrified as the other practically growled. 

As Lotor moved to hover on top of him Keith began to fight harder, breaths coming in quick pants as he desperately pushed against the Duke’s chest. He could hear the buttons of Lotor’s trousers come undone and Keith’s vision became tinged with red. He didn’t realise what he’d done until the door to the room burst open, and Shiro took in Keith’s bedraggled state and the Duke who laid slumped on the bed with a nasty cut on his eyebrow. 

Shiro was quick to pull Keith from the bed, holding him close as the other sobbed into his shoulder. He waited until his shoulders stopped shaking to pick the courtesan up onto his feet and Keith suddenly felt as if he were in a daze, watching with someone else's eyes as Shiro brought him into his room and shoved his essentials into a small bag. 

The cold of the night air was bracing, and Keith finally felt as if he’d been brought back down to earth, his breaths harsh in his chest as Shiro supported him up the stairs to Lance’s flat. Shiro didn’t even wait to knock, simply throwing the doors open and letting his grip on Keith’s shoulders go slack as the other fell into Lance’s arms. 

“What happened?” Lance asked over Keith’s shaking head, watching as Shiro’s expression turned dark and his own blue gaze snagging on the small bag clutched in the other’s grip. He didn’t need to know, and really he had a pretty good guess of what happened. 

“Shiro, when’s the next train to the port?” Lance asked abruptly, pressing a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. 

“An hour from now,” he replied, eyes knowing as he took in the other two. 

“Right, can you deal with the Duke? And the play?” Lance asked, and Shiro nodded vigorously before storming out the door. Lance could see the barely contained anger in his tense shoulders. 

“We’re gonna leave, you won’t have to see him again,” Lance told Keith, pressing another kiss to his forehead as the other protested. “Shiro is taking care of the rest. We just need to concentrate on packing and getting on a boat to England. I have an apartment there that we can stay in until we can safely return, alright?” 

Tears sparkled in Keith’s eyes again, and he pressed a wet kiss to Lance’s lips and held him close. His gaze took in the spinning fans of the windmill of the Moulin Rouge, but all of his attention was on the long supple fingers running up and down his back, his eyes falling shut as he let himself sink into Lance’s warm embrace. 

\-- 

Lance stared at the final line of his book, his eyes taking in the words that had been ringing in his head for the better part of a year. He had no idea where it’d come from, but as he glanced to Keith laid in bed, his dark lashes fluttering as he awoke, he realised that he couldn’t agree more with the statement than at that moment. 

_ The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return.  _


	5. No one ever made a difference by being like everyone else - Greatest Showman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith caught a flash of sparkling blue as a pair of trapeze artists performed for the gathered crowd, drawing gasps from the audience as they swung high into the air. One of them seemed to hover in front of Keith, and the playwright found his breath stolen from his lungs by the most gorgeous human he’d ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely human beings! I absolutely LOVE Greatest Showman and I know I probably have said that already for every movie but I really do! 
> 
> This one is a bit shorter as it was meant as a break from the heavy stuff but turned into angst anyway oops XD. I'm not complaining though, and I always say Keith and Lance as Anne and Phillip because they just...fit if that makes sense. 
> 
> I don't think there's any trigger warnings in this one, so just sit back and read this dumpster fire that is my muscial nerd self dumping on Klance XD (also speaking of musicals, if you haven't already checked it out the new musical on Netflix called The Prom is really good!)
> 
> I hope you're keeping happy, safe and sane <3

Keith had no idea what he was being dragged into when he’d followed Shiro into the building. He hadn’t expected the man to convince him to join his circus over shots of vodka, and he knew his mother wouldn’t approve his executive ‘business decision’ as he’d labelled it in his head. But at that very moment he didn’t care. His plays were shit, he hated the people his mother forced him to converse with and what Shiro was offering sounded right up his street. 

The building they arrived at was buzzing with activity and not just because a show was occurring at that very moment. Keith could literally feel the atmosphere sizzling under his skin, setting his heart thumping and his stomach roiling as Shiro led him up wooden steps to watch. 

Keith caught a flash of sparkling blue as a pair of trapeze artists performed for the gathered crowd, drawing gasps from the audience as they swung high into the air. One of them seemed to hover in front of Keith, and the playwright found his breath stolen from his lungs by the most gorgeous human he’d ever seen. 

It felt as if time stood still as the two took each other in, bright blue eyes meeting dark purple, and Keith could see the smirk inching up the others lips as he winked before his arc finished and he dropped to the floor. Keith leant against the barrier to watch the trapeze artist be caught by his partner, and he attempted to ignore the burning of his cheeks. 

He came back to himself quickly, whirling to face Shiro with an excited expression. “Where do I sign up?” he asked and Shiro laughed, clapping his hand on Keith’s shoulder as he led him back down the stairs to the main area.

This was when his circus wasn’t getting the attention it would a few months later. Keith spent his afternoons helping set up the equipment for the evening show and getting to know the performers. He enjoyed it immensely, and loved the change that came with the new acquaintances he made. 

The trapeze artists kept their distance strangely, and the one that had stolen his breath the first time they met eyes would often glance at him curiously. Keith would nod his head in greeting as they passed by each other, but he could physically feel something pulling him towards the other. It was as if someone had attached a tether to his gut and was pulling it taut whenever they moved away. 

He could tell the other performers were getting used to him, the two contortionists Allura and Coran would ask him to join them for their afternoon tea, although Keith wouldn’t drink it as it would always be a strange brew he’d never heard of but would be used to limber their joints and muscles. Hunk, the resident strongman would invite his help with making food for the rest of the troupe or ask for Keith’s help to warm up for the workout he’d plan for that day.

He’d gotten his first taste of being an apprentice ringmaster when Shiro tested him during the matinee show for children. He’d toned down his projection, asking for volunteers often as he knew that the children loved helping even if it meant that they just held a hoop while one of the animals jumped through. 

“You’re very good with them,” the trapeze artist said to him once they’d left, his expression kind as he smiled at Keith. 

“Thank you, I have a few little cousins at home and I used to have to keep them entertained,” he said, coiling a rope around his arm. “I don’t think I caught your name, I’m Keith,” he introduced himself, holding out his free arm for the other to shake. 

“Lance,” the trapeze artist replied, and Keith suddenly felt as if he had a live wire attached to his palm as they shook hands. Lance’s hands were rough with callouses but his fingers were long and elegant. They were completely different to Keith’s with his short fingers and nails bitten to the quick, often covered in ink from his writing. 

He couldn’t tell whether Lance had felt the same electricity sparking between their hands as the trapeze artist sauntered off with a flippant wave of his hand, leaving Keith to glance down at his palm in slight confusion. He didn’t think much more about it and the days past quickly. 

He heard Lance telling his partner Pidge of how he’d love to book tickets to see a play with the money from the show, and Keith’s eyes lit up with the thought of buying them for Lance himself. 

It didn’t take much convincing for Shiro to allow him the night off, it seemed he was a bit too preoccupied with his newest endeavor. Keith personally didn’t think much of the singer that had been brought to England, although when they’d been invited to the show he and the rest of the troupe had been placed at the back. 

Anger had bubbled in Keith’s stomach at the obvious slight, but it had died out swiftly when Lance had taken his hand gently. Keith hadn’t said anything about the tears that sparkled in his gaze as they both listened to the performance but he couldn’t tell whether the tears were because of the gorgeous voice that was echoing through the hall, or whether it was because of their treatment. 

It was a cold November evening when Lance clocked out early, and Keith could see the excitement in Lance’s gaze as he threw his best suit jacket over his shoulders. Keith had asked Shiro to tell Lance that the ringmaster had been the one to book the tickets, and Keith would follow behind Lance a few minutes after he left so that he could catch up to him at the ticket booth. 

Keith felt something bottom out in his chest when Lance’s voice quivered in shame at being offered two tickets, and he darted forward quickly, his coattails gliding along behind him as he gently took the tickets. Lance’s blue eyes were wide with shock as Keith smiled at him, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment. 

“I thought we could go see it together,” he said quietly, offering his arm to the trapeze artist before they began to make their way up the large set of stairs. 

“I’d always wanted to go to the theatre,” Lance told him quietly, and Keith’s smile widened at the awe in Lance’s gaze. He was so distracted by the beautiful man on his arm that Keith didn’t even realise his mother and uncle were there until they called out his name. 

“Keith,” his mother called out, and he flinched at the disappointment and outrage in her tone. His dark eyes flickered over to her, wary of trying to start a conversation. It seemed unavoidable however as Lance looked to him in confusion. 

Keith swallowed hard before opening his mouth. “Hello mother, uncle,” he murmured, nodding his head in greeting. “I apologize for not sending you a letter, but this is Lance.” 

He could see his mother’s lips thin and his grip on Lance’s arm tightened fractionally as he got ready to move. 

“When will you give up this facade?” his uncle suddenly asked, his expression stern. “You’re wanted back at the theatre Keith, they want to put on a production of your play. And here you are flouncing about with the common folk.” 

That seemed to be the last straw as Keith suddenly turned both him and Lance around, their feet soundless on the carpeted floor as they dashed down the stairs. Keith could hear his mother calling out to him but he didn’t dare look back, allowing the cool night air to wash over him and into his lungs. 

“Let’s go home,” Keith whispered to Lance, and the trapeze artist didn’t argue at the other’s troubled expression. 

The city streets were quiet at this time of night and they were back in front of the circus building in no time, the smell of the hanging ropes and leather from the equipment achingly familiar to the two of them. 

“Why did you leave home?” Lance asked quietly, taking in Keith’s hunched shoulders as the other pulled off his suit jacket. Lance understood people in similar situations like his, leaving home and everything familiar behind - and he’d never want to hear someone he loved calling him a freak again - but it looked like Keith had everything, and he’d given it away to join a circus group? 

“My mother and uncle set out...expectations for my life and how I’d live when I was a child,” Keith began, his voice achingly quiet but still heard by Lance as the trapeze artist made his way over to sit by the hay bale at his side. “They had my job organised, paid for my apartment, they even began setting me up with people they thought I would like.

“When I told them that I didn’t want that life, they flipped. Told me that if I didn’t write plays that only showed for two weeks, or went to cocktail parties where I knew no one but everyone knew me, I would be cut off from the family salary. So I left,” Keith explained, lifting his eyes to meet Lance’s with a determined gaze. 

He laughed self deprecatingly when Lance didn’t say a word. “I probably sound like a spoilt brat huh,” he said quietly, coiling a piece of rope over his arm tightly. 

“I don’t think that,” Lance said, gently taking Keith’s elbow and halting his hands from coiling the rope any tighter. Keith could see that the other was being completely genuine as he smiled at him. “You got yourself out of that situation. That shows your bravery.” 

And Lance couldn’t help how his heart suddenly urged him to bend his head slightly and press a fond kiss to Keith’s forehead. Something fluttered in his stomach at the other’s blush. 

“And for what it’s worth, I think you’ve found a family here,” Lance said with a kind smile, taking the rope with him as he sauntered into the middle of the ring to practise. 

\--

Keith had been right about Shiro’s infatuation with his newest singer, and the amount of press she seemed to bring in. He watched from the sidelines as the man bathed in the praise and money that was thrown at him, and wasn’t exactly surprised when he announced a tour, but not for the circus. 

“Shiro, that’s gonna cost a lot of money and time that you could be spending here, improving the rates of tickets and the show,” Keith told him as he followed him across the scaffolding they used during performances. Shiro seemed distracted today, and Keith wasn’t entirely sure how to get through to him. 

“Keith, this  _ is  _ going to improve the show,” Shiro insisted without stopping his stride. “The money we get from the tour will be put into new costumes, props and equipment. So this idea does have a benefit at every angle.”

“Including your own press?” Keith asked, his tone betraying his bitterness at the situation. Shiro finally turned to look at him, his expression apologetic and slightly guilty. 

“The press isn’t the focus of the tour. And we’ll only be gone for a few weeks. That’s enough time for you to get used to handling the larger shows,” Shiro told him, his tone allowing for no argument. 

And that seemed to be that. Shiro left a few days later, leaving his top hat and cane with Keith along with the role of ringmaster until he got back. Keith could see the resigned disappointment in the performers and he tried to keep the positivity going, pasting a large smile on his face during shows. 

It seemed to get harder and harder as more protestors found ways to buy tickets to the show. They managed to be louder than the gathered crowd, their chants and cries carrying through the building, stabbing like knives into their skin. 

It escalated badly one evening when a group of them stayed behind once the show was finished, and Pidge alerted Keith to the problem when they made no move to leave. As he approached them, he could make out the slurs and names they were calling his friends and anger bubbled in his stomach. 

“Hey, we’re closed for the night,” Keith called out, finally drawing their attention to him. “So could you please, just go?” he asked, clenching his fists to hide his shaking fingers. There were more than six of them, and the scent of alcohol was pungent on their breath and clothes. 

“Or what, pretty boy? You gonna set the lions on us?” one asked with a laugh, staring down Keith with a critical eye. “You gonna beat me with your little stick?” 

“I’m going to ask you to leave, nicely,” Keith said lowly, tilting his head slightly. “Or, I can release the catch on the lion’s cage if you’d like.” 

“Shit mate, he’s really threatening you,” one of the other’s said with a cackle, and Keith could see the blood running from the man’s cheeks. 

“Oh really?” he asked, taking a slight step forward. “Well you won’t be able to do that if you’re on the floor.” 

A blinding pain bloomed on his temple and Keith was sent to the ground hard. A ruckus suddenly broke out and he felt hands helping him to his feet. The others had finally approached, their confidence and intimidating figures scaring the men off, but not before one of them managed to toss a lantern into the corner, the oil spilling onto the rope below it and the flames sparking violently. 

The fire spread quick and fast, and Keith ordered for the animals to be set free as he supported Allura out of the door to the circus. Shiro was outside, his travelling cloak heavy on his shoulders with Adam next to him. Desperately they did a head count, until Keith heard two words that sent a drop of dread into his stomach. 

“Where’s Lance?” Shiro asked, taking in the gathered performers and Keith glanced back into the burning building. There was no hesitancy as he dove through the door, his head on a spindle as he looked around for Lance. 

The smoke got into his mouth, nose and eyes, making him cough and splutter desperately as tears ran freely down his cheeks. He called for Lance as loud as he could, until he was halted by a beam crashing into his shoulders and sending him to the floor. 

Wracking coughs shook his body, and he suddenly had the bizarre realisation that he was going to die. He laughed hysterically which tapered off into harsh coughs and his eyes slipped closed. He felt his eyelids flicker as he was suddenly picked up by strong arms, but he let the darkness take him, finally, feeling so tired. 

\-- 

He came to with the awareness of a soft bed underneath him, and burning pain across his shoulders and chest. He groaned quietly, peeling his eyelids open before slamming them shut quickly, the brightness of the room like knives to his gaze. 

He felt someone shift beside him and take his hand, their grip gentle against his sensitive skin. 

“Keith,” Lance breathed, and he could hear the wobble of his voice before his eyes focused on the other. 

“Hi,” Keith rasped, his lips twitching in an attempt of a smile. “I probably look pretty rough, huh?” He coughed slightly, but to him the sound was like a shout in an echoing church. 

His brows furrowed in surprise as Lance ducked his head to press his lips to Keith’s knuckles, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“Don’t you dare do that again,” he said, his voice ladened with concern and sadness. “You scared me. I thought I was going to  _ lose you _ .” And Keith could hear the repressed sob in his tone. 

He eased himself up gently, wincing slightly at the pain that flared under his skin but he managed it, his lips pressing against Lance’s almost lovingly. The trapeze artist gently wrapped his arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, and Keith could taste the saltiness of his tears. 

“You will never lose me,” Keith told him, pressing their foreheads together and letting the rest of the world fade away. It was the two of them against the world, and they could rewrite the stars if they wanted, to make their love seem as natural as breathing and as normal as Shiro and Adam’s. 


	6. The Wind is Rising...We Must Learn To Live - The Wind Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith dreamt that he was flying. He could feel the cold, brisk wind ruffling his hair and causing his eyes to water as his plane gained altitude. The Japanese countryside spread out below him, fields like patches in a quilt and the trees tiny green specks. He loved the sensation of being in control of his own life where he flew high up in the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gorgeous humans! 
> 
> This is the second Studio Ghibli movie in this collection and as some may note I might've taken some creative license with this one. 
> 
> Just a heads up - I know absolutely ZERO about engineering so if something is off please do forgive me. I hope to see you for the last film which is bound to be a Christmas treat cause hell knows I certainly need one.
> 
> I hope you're all staying happy, safe and sane <3

Keith dreamt that he was flying. He could feel the cold, brisk wind ruffling his hair and causing his eyes to water as his plane gained altitude. The Japanese countryside spread out below him, fields like patches in a quilt and the trees tiny green specks. He loved the sensation of being in control of his own life where he flew high up in the clouds. 

But suddenly he felt something pull him back to earth, tugging on his plane’s wings and tilting him towards the ground. He could feel the structure rattling apart the closer he got to the ground and-- 

His eyes snapped open, the netting that kept the mosquitos at bay swaying slightly in the wind above him. Keith tilted his head to look into the small garden, the plane that had supposedly been parked there missing. He sighed quietly, careful not to wake Kayo who still slept soundly beside him. 

That was the second time this week he’d had that dream, and he pondered on it hard during breakfast. His mother pushed back his fringe in slight concern, worried for him because he was so quiet but Keith smiled at her to reassure that he was alright. 

The town was bustling and he was quick to walk to school with his small bag on his shoulder. He was careful to avoid any collisions however, dodging men who led their oxen to the fields and women who carried heavy baskets filled with clothing or food on their heads. 

His teacher told him of a book he thought he’d like, asking Keith to meet him at the teacher’s lounge after school. Keith was intrigued, but didn’t let it distract him from his studies. He wanted to make his mother proud of him, and he couldn’t do that with bad results. 

“It’s an English book, but it is easy to understand it with a dictionary,” his teacher told him that afternoon, handing over a magazine with what looked like the newest plane model from Italy. There was a small photo of a man in the corner, his mustache not easy to miss. 

“Who’s this?” Keith asked, pressing his finger against the photo in interest. 

“That is an Italian aircraft designer, Giovanni Caproni,” his teacher replied, and Keith’s gaze was so focussed on the magazine that he didn’t notice his kind smile. “They say he’s a genius in his field. Will you be alright to read it?” 

“Yes sir, thank you,” Keith replied with a short bow before wandering down the corridor with his head stuck in the pages. 

He spent the evening reading in his room, his small table lit by a candle that aided him in seeing his dictionary and the pages. His door slid open quietly as his mother came in to sit with him. 

“What’s this?” she asked, her tone curious as she took in the photographs of large planes that crested over ocean waves. “It looks very interesting.” 

“It’s an engineering magazine,” Keith said, a bright smile pulling on his lips as he showed it to his mother. “And that is Caproni, a brilliant Italian plane engineer. I want to be just like him.” 

That night, with all the childlike wonder an eleven year old had, Keith dreamed of Caproni. He met the engineer on a plain of fresh grass, and he could feel the dew that soaked the individual blades through his geta. The whirring sounds of engines drew his attention and Keith watched in awe as bomber planes with weapons strapped to their undersides flew past him. Atop one of them stood a very familiar figure and Keith couldn’t help but rub at his eyes in astonishment. 

“You there! Who are you?” a voice suddenly called out in a language Keith couldn’t place but could clearly understand. 

“I’m a Japanese boy!” Keith called back, unsure of what to say otherwise because this great figure who couldn’t possibly be anyone but Count Caproni stared down at him from the cockpit of one of his planes. “I think I’m dreaming!” 

“Dreaming?!” the other asked with a stunned look before ordering Keith to stay there. Caproni climbed down the strut of the plane’s wheel easily, pumping his legs in mid air so that he kept his balance when his feet landed on the ground. “This is my dream, if it is what you say.” 

“I think it’s my dream too,” Keith told him breathlessly. 

“Then it is a good dream,” Caproni told him kindly. His gaze was drawn to the planes overhead and he saluted them as they went past, a sad look pulling down his eyebrows. 

“They’re beautiful no?” he asked, and Keith nodded, bowing to the pilots and shooters that stood in the vehicles.

“They’re off to bomb some remote city, none of them will return,” Caproni continued, and Keith suddenly got a glimpse of the burning buildings, the image unfortunately the norm because of the Great War that tore their world apart. He could hear sadness in the other man’s voice and he understood why, knowing that no one wanted their creation to go off to war and never return. 

“Come, I must show you something,” Caproni said abruptly, his stride long and fast as he made his way across the plain. Keith had to jog to keep up, clutching his sandals in his hands and watching as the Count gracefully climbed up to the wing of one of his passenger planes. Keith had seen photos of that specific model just that afternoon and his eyes were wide with astonishment as his feet pattered on the metal of its wing. 

“Beautiful, is it not?” Caproni asked, gesturing to the plane they stood upon and one that looked just like it pulling up beside them. “Planes are my dreams. I conjure them in my mind, put them down onto paper and watch them grow into the machines that conquer the sky. Flying my planes is one thing, but building them is another thing entirely.” 

“So you need to ask yourself, Japanese boy,” Caproni suddenly said, leaning forward so that his intense gaze captured Keith’s, “do you want to fly planes? Or build them?” 

\--

The train rattled along the tracks beneath Keith as got up from his seat. He gestured with his briefcase for a woman to sit down, the train car too stuffy for his liking and too full for him to pull out his notebook and equipment. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he crouched by the door to the train car, moving over to finally sit on the steps, letting the wind whip his hair and jacket about him. Tokyo was still a bit further on so, for a few minutes Keith entertained himself with his calculations, holding onto his pages tightly to prevent them flying off. 

“Oh wow, Rachel, look at the countryside!” a voice called out in stilted Japanese which had Keith glancing up from his notebook. Two figures leant against the railing of the train car, gazing appreciatively at the fields that flew past. One of them, the boy recited an old french poem that had always resonated with Keith as a boy, and a small smile ticked at the corners of his mouth. 

“Lance, we shouldn’t be out here for too long, mama is going to start worrying about us,” the girl, Rachel, told her brother, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket. The two of them didn’t look much younger than Keith, and he bowed his head in greeting when they suddenly spotted him. 

The boy, Lance, blinked at him in surprise having not seen Keith from where he sat on the steps of the train car. Keith shuffled his feet in slight embarrassment before turning his gaze back to his pages, clutching his slide ruler tightly between his fingers. He didn’t glance up again as the door to the next car over slid open and then shut again, and Keith could feel his shoulders relaxing. 

A great rumble suddenly echoed throughout the country side, and Keith’s head snapped up to watch the world  _ ripple _ . It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen and he realised when the train was thrown into the air slightly that it was an earthquake. He watched with wide eyes as buildings sunk into the ground, his fingers gripping the metal of the rail tightly, and the stones beneath the tracks jumped and wiggled as the earth shook. 

Screams came from all around Keith and he shut his eyes tight until it finally stopped, and a deathly silence fell over all of them. Gently he stood from the staircase, making room as frantic passengers clambered off. Keith aided a family down to the ground before beginning the walk towards the university. 

“You alright?” he suddenly heard a familiar voice say, and Keith glanced over to see the two siblings Lance and Rachel. Lance was crouched over his sister, his brow furrowed in concern, and Keith took a few steps over to get a better look at what’s happened. 

Rachel’s leg looked to be broken, and the girl hissed in pain as Lance tried to move it a little. 

“Are you okay?” Keith suddenly asked, crouching down beside Lance and looking at his sister with a serious look. “That leg of yours needs to be binded. Was your stop far from here?” 

He ignored the surprised look he was getting from the two of them, only throwing open his suitcase to rummage around for a suitable cloth to tie a makeshift splint. 

“No, it’s only a ten minute walk,” Lance replied, recovering first as he watched Keith place his slide ruler against Rachel’s broken leg and tie his own shirt around it tightly. 

“Can you lead me there while I carry your sister?” Keith asked and Lance nodded in confirmation, quickly grabbing for Keith’s bag as he placed Rachel on his back carefully. “We have to be mindful of people, they may panic during the aftershocks,” Keith said as they began to make their way through the crowds. 

The gathering people cried out in shock as the earth shook again, but only slightly and not as badly as the one previous. Keith stopped, glancing at the trees that surrounded them, making sure nothing was going to fall on their heads before continuing to follow Lance. 

It didn’t take long to reach their house, and Keith was quick to hand Rachel over to another sibling. He bowed to the people congregating at the entrance before swiftly turning and beginning to walk towards the university. 

“Thank you!” he heard from behind him but Keith didn’t get to reply as he was enveloped by the crowd once again. 

\-- 

Keith watched with wide eyes as the plane he helped design took to the skys. The sunlight glinted off of the metal as the pilot angled its wings to gain more altitude. He could hear the joyful cheers of the army men behind him and the sudden sensation of a hand clapping his shoulder drew his attention to Shiro. Keith remembered how he’d met Shiro his first day at the Tokyo Imperial University next to the burning library. The two of them had stayed firm friends after they’d spent the day excavating smoldering books. 

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he asked, his tone like a proud parent as the pilot brought the plane around for the landing. 

“Yes, but something isn’t right,” Keith murmured, his keen eyes watching as the pilot angled the propellor down. “He’s coming in too fast,” he suddenly said and they watched as the plane pulled up abruptly, the struts in the wings creaking as the pressure ripped at them. 

The wings came apart at the seams, and the pilot ejected quickly, his parachute distinguishable against the clear blue sky. 

“Damn it,” Shiro exclaimed, and Keith couldn’t help but agree with the statement, his gaze following as their weeks of hard work was sent crashing to the ground with a loud thud. 

“Stupid old Japaneses technology,” Shiro grumbled as he strode over to the burning wreck that was the remnants of the  _ Falcon _ . Keith stayed back for a few seconds, listening in as the army talked with their superiors, saying something about going to another company to try a different design. Keith furrowed his brows at how quickly they seemed to give up, but when he heard of who they were going to go to, he didn’t dare continue with that thought. 

In fact he didn’t think about the project again until it suddenly turned up in one of his Caproni dreams. It seemed that the chugging and lolling of the train beneath him was enough to imitate a plane as his mind was suddenly filled with the sight of the stretching green plains and the rumbling sound of engines. 

“It seems one of your dreams has failed, my friend,” Caproni said to him, his accent as thick as ever. But if Keith concentrated he could see flecks of grey in his otherwise voluptuous mustache. Keith flinched at the site of his wrecked project amongst the grass. 

“If it fails it’s obvious I have to improve,” he said with determination, cutting his gaze up to the other man as he laughed uproariously. 

“That’s the right attitude my friend,” Caproni said. “Why if I didn’t improve on my engineering skills then I would never have built planes such as that one.” And he pointed to a gorgeous plane that had three sets of wings and propellers, each level almost full to bursting with passengers. Keith almost gasped at the sight, wondering at the technological advancements he could see in the very way the vehicle was structured.

“It’s beautiful,” Keith said, his gaze following the plane as it flew over them, and he had to place a hand on his suit jacket as the wind whipped around him. 

“It is one of my dreams,” Caproni said quietly and the two men stood, watching as the plane disappeared over the horizon. 

Germany was cold, and surprisingly secretive with their engineer work even though they were the ones to invite them to see Junkers’ designs. At every turn Keith and Shiro were stopped from taking a closer look at the designs by men in grey uniforms. Their German accents were harsh as they ordered them away from the planes and the workshops they tried to look into. 

It wasn’t until Keith tried to get a look at a small plane at the back of the hangar, and incurred the wrath of another soldier, did they finally get a proper look at the contraptions by order of Doctor Junkers himself. He nodded politely to Keith when he passed him, and Keith couldn’t help but bow to him. 

Shiro chuckled at him as they climbed into the plane, marvelling at the seats holed up in the wings and the amount of space it had. Keith pointed to the inner structure, making his way through the space within the wing until they were halted but this time by a German engineer. The two friends watched as the other explained the mechanics behind the great metal beast and they landed safely with wide almost childlike grins on their faces. 

They spent the evening wandering the streets of the city, breathing in the fresh brisk air and watching it puff out in pure white clouds. They then holed up in their heated apartment, trading designs that were inspired by the planes they’d seen that day.

\-- 

The image of his IMF10 falling to the ground would haunt Keith in his dreams. He was disappointed in the design, knowing he was missing something extremely important that would aid his bird to fly. By orders of his superior Keith took the train to Karuizawa to stay at the resort there for the summer.

When he asked, Shiro said it was a great idea but he’d seen the toll designing that plane had taken on Keith; how many late nights he spent at the office, how he slaved away at the designs over the weekends. If he hadn’t been sent by their boss Shiro was going to put Keith on a train himself. 

The resort was refreshing, but with very little to do Keith found his mind continuously going back to his failed project. He went for a walk every afternoon, going down a mountain trail and turning back at a small spring. Often he walked with a sheet of his design in hand, his gaze turned up to the clouds as his mind conjured his bird in plain sight. He didn’t know someone was watching him as he passed by each day. 

One morning he’d been close to giving up, considering what to say in his letter of resignation when a cool breeze blew in through the open door, ruffling his bangs and causing his pages to flutter. And he realised something; he’d come here to rest and relax, and yet here he was thinking about work. 

Decidedly Keith stood from his laid down position, forgoing his papers and his coat as he grabbed his shoes from the front door. He went on his walk, but this time he properly enjoyed it, putting all thoughts of his work to the back of his mind. 

He never realised how green the trees and grass was here, so used to the little amounts of plant life that came with living in the city. The clouds had since been dashed away by the wind, leaving a glorious blue sky above Keith’s head and lovely fresh air without a lick of smog. He went his usual trail, heading towards the small spring with wide footsteps but this time he bowed his head in greeting to anyone he met on the way there. 

As he strolled down the pathway he thought of what he’d do for the rest of the day. He had a few letters to write to his mother, Kayo and Shiro to let them know he is well and resting (finally). He also had that book he’d started on the train which would be nice to read on the balcony in this summer sun. He tilted his head back to take it in, a small smile gracing his lips as he continued walking. 

A sudden gust of wind took him by surprise and it was strong enough to send him stumbling. Something white flickered in the corner of his eye and for a moment his mind was brought back to the IMF10 falling to the ground, but, it turned out to be someone’s parasol that they’d lost control of in the wind. 

Reacting quickly as it flew closer Keith grabbed hold of its handle, bracing his feet as the wind tried to take it within its clutches again. He struggled with it slightly before snapping it shut. 

“Good catch!” a voice called out, and Keith looked to the top of the hill where a figure waved for his attention. As he grew closer the other looked very familiar, but Keith couldn’t place where he’d seen him before. He bowed gracefully before passing the parasol over, his dark grey eyes suddenly locking with blue eyes. 

Keith found himself suddenly back in the past, surrounded by screaming people and the smell of smoke as the earth rumbled beneath his feet. He could feel the weight of someone pressing against his back before he shook his head slightly, opening his eyes again to meet the wide eyed gaze of the one in front of him. 

“It’s you,” Lance whispered, and Keith had a few seconds to smile at him before the other leapt into his arms. Keith could feel his cheeks burn red but he didn’t concentrate on that as the other thanked him fiercely. “When you left without giving your name I didn’t know how I would find you. You were such a great help that day, and both father and mother wanted to thank you for helping Rachel.” 

“I was glad I  _ could  _ help,” Keith replied, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “I thought that you two would just send me away for even suggesting I help.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lance said as he pulled back from Keith to get a look at him. “And the whole family is here now so they can thank you in person.” 

Lance suddenly stuck his hand out towards Keith, shaking it in the air a few times before Keith got the message, placing his palm against his. “Hi there, I’m Keith Kogane,” he told Lance with a small smile. 

“Nice to meet you Keith Kogane, I’m Lance McClain,” Lance replied, his grin all teeth and gums. 

True to Lance’s word his whole family did thank Keith for bringing back the siblings that fateful day. Lance’s mother - who insisted he called her Lucia - hug him tight, and Lance’s father clapped him on the shoulder. He said nothing about titles so Keith went with calling him Mr. McClain. Rachel was there too, and the girl practically leapt on Keith like her brother had, thanking him so loudly that they drew looks from the other patrons. 

“How long do you plan to stay here, Keith?” Lucia asked as they sat down for afternoon tea, the family adamant that he join them. 

“Only for a few more weeks,” Keith replied as he took a sip of his coffee. “I’m meant to be here on a break from work as my most recent project fell through.” 

“Oh I’m sorry dear,” Lucia said, patting his arm in sympathy. 

“What do you do for work Keith? If you don’t mind me asking,” Mr McClain asked, and Keith could see his calculating gaze from across the table. Although he had no idea why he was being judged but he answered politely anyway. 

“I work for the company Mitsubishi as a aeronautical engineer. We’re currently working on a project for the army corps but the test flight wasn’t a success,” Keith explained, and he could see wonder glimmering in Lance’s blue eyes. 

“Ah, so then you would’ve been on the recent  _ Eagle  _ project as well?” Mr McClain asked, and Keith could hear the curiosity in his tone. 

“Unfortunately no but my friend was the head designer on that project,” Keith said, and something in his chest loosened as the rest of tea went smoothly. 

The McClains took to inviting him to supper every evening, and sometimes lunchtimes. Keith would often find himself either across or beside Lance, and he always had to keep his reactions in check because the other seemed to  _ do  _ something to him. It certainly made the time he spent at the resort go faster and he found himself at the end of his visit, his bags packed and ready to go. 

Lance dragged him on his daily walk, the two of them stopping at the bubbling spring. Keith watched as Lance seemed to consider something before he turned to him. 

“I want to give you my address, so that we can keep in touch,” Lance told him, holding out a small piece of paper for Keith to take. “I lost you last time when you helped and I don’t mean to make a habit of it.” Lance smiled kindly at Keith, who took the slip of paper and pocketed it carefully. 

“I’ll make sure to write then,” Keith told him, giving his own smile in return. The water flowing behind Lance suddenly became the only sound between them as Keith noticed blue eyes locked on his. He could feel the wind ruffling his hair and clothes, and he shivered slightly, folding his arms close to his chest. 

“Should we head back then? It’s starting to get a bit col--” 

Lance’s lips stilled the last of Keith’s sentence in his throat, but as quickly as the kiss started Lance had stepped away, his cheeks aflame but his gaze almost adoring. Keith didn’t get to say anything as the other walked out of the clearing, leaving the engineer to trace his lips with his fingertips. 

\-- 

_ Dear Lance,  _

_ We had another test flight for the Zero project this morning but I wasn’t able to attend. Apparently I’m now wanted for questioning in regards to a guest at the resort, although I never talked to the man once.  _

_ My superior is kindly letting me stay with him and his wife although it isn’t anything like home. At least it’s quiet here so I can concentrate.  _

_ I hope you’re well?  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Keith. _

_ Dear Keith,  _

_ I’m really glad that the project is seeming to go well, papa is wondering whether you’ve ever thought of building commercial planes.  _

_ We got contacted about that very same guest. They wanted to know whether we’d talked with him at all but I only saw him once at lunch eating a whole plate of watercress. I thought it was very strange, but, to each their own I suppose.  _

_ I’m glad you have somewhere you can stay while all this madness goes on, but I hope you get to go home soon.  _

_ Best,  _

_ Lance. _

_ Dear Lance,  _

_ Another test flight failed today. I’m not sure what it is I’m doing wrong with the design. There’s minimal drag and the structure seems sound. But I doubt you want to hear the technicalities of my work.  _

_ There’s a really nice walk by the house here, almost reminds me of the one we used to take by the stream. It helps calm me down when I get anxious about the project.  _

_ Best,  _

_ Keith. _

_ Dear Keith,  _

_ I’m sorry to hear about the project not going as you’d hoped. I wish there was something I could do. Just know that you must trust in your skills as an engineer, you got this far and you can take it even further.  _

_ Best,  _

_ Lance  _

\-- 

Keith could hear the cicadas from where he sat at his desk. The sun had just grazed the horizon and he stared at the blueprints before him. It had been a week since the last failed test flight and the army representatives were getting nervous that the project wouldn’t be finished on time. There’d been rumblings of what was happening in Europe and the pressure was on Keith to figure out what was wrong with his design. 

His hair was messy from the amount of times he’d raked his fingers through it but at that moment in time he didn’t exactly care. The heat from the afternoon lingered, and he stretched his arms above his head, his unbuttoned shirt lifting with his limbs. 

A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts, and Keith called out to whomever was on the other side.

“Keith, you have a visitor,” Ms Kurokawa told him, and Keith placed his pencil behind his ear, grateful to leave his work for a little while. He nodded his thanks as he wandered past, giving a smile to her as he padded down the corridor in bare feet. 

Kayo sat seiza style waiting politely for her brother to sit down. “Mother has been worried,” she said by way of greeting, her gaze fixed on Keith’s judgingly. “You haven’t sent us any letters.” 

“Hello to you too Kayo,” Keith replied, “how’s medical class going?” 

“Good. Now tell me why we haven’t heard hide nor hair of you for a month?” she asked abruptly. Keith winced, chuckling quietly and guiltily as his little sister pinned him with an annoyed look. “I’m not laughing,” she said abruptly, and Keith could see her arms make an aborted move that looked like she was about to cross them over her chest. 

“I’ve been a bit busy. You know, hiding out from the police, completing my engineering project,” Keith explained, gesturing to the building around them. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t give a very viable reason as to why you can’t pick up a pen and write to mother. You have one behind your ear,” Kayo complained, and Keith was quick to take it out, pulling it gently through his hair so that it didn’t catch on it. “Have you been using up all your paper on someone else?” she suddenly asked. 

Keith spluttered slightly, his mind going to the pile of letters he’d tied with a small piece of string, the pages covered in Lance’s neat cursive. “No, why would you say that?” he replied, his fingers fidgeting with the pencil as Kayo hummed. 

“I don’t buy it,” she suddenly said, her tone almost petulant like it so often would turn when she was a child. “Come on, who is he?” 

And that got Keith’s head to dart up in surprise, his mouth half open and ready with a rebuttal but he could see the cheeky smile on Kayo’s lips. “You knew?” Keith asked, gazing in astonishment at his little sister who scoffed at him. 

“You forget that I lived with you for the good part of ten years. I knew you didn’t swing that way and you know what? I couldn’t care less who you love as long as they treat you right,” Kayo told him with a determined nod of her head, and Keith subtly wiped the blossoming tears from his eyes. 

“Now come on, I want details and don’t leave anything out or else I’ll try and find this mystery boy for myself,” she told him, her tone completely serious as Keith laughed at her. 

They moved to the dining room, the tatami mats softer than the hard wooden floor outside. Keith gently poured Kayo some tea, the wind coming in at his back and ruffling his hair. As they sipped on their hot drinks, he told her about the summer resort, about his time spent relaxing and of how he met Lance. 

He tried to include everything he could, from how the two of them would spend everyday together, to the meals he would take with his family, to that last fateful walk. Keith swore he could still feel Lance’s lips against his, and something in his gut would flutter at the thought of doing it again. 

He told her of how they wrote to each other often, and that they’d started off nervous at first but then their language became more familiar, until they began to sign off in a completely different way than they did when they started. 

Kayo wasn’t one to squeal or giggle as other girls her age did but Keith knew that the small smile on her lips was approval enough. Another knock on the door drew them from their conversation, and Keith called out for whoever was there to come in. 

“Apologies for interrupting Keith, but there’s a young man at the door who says he’s come to see you?” Ms Kurokawa said, and Kayo gasped quietly, standing up from her knelt position and scuttling out the door. 

Keith was quick to follow, but not before he bowed in thanks to his hostess as he passed her. Keith followed his little sister’s pattering footsteps towards the front door, his own mind running amok with who it could possibly be. He had a feeling it could be Shiro but on further thought he realised that his best friend was probably in Tokyo and he hadn’t written to say he was visiting. 

As he rounded the last corner before the front door he stopped short in surprise, taking in Lance who stood holding a small suitcase and his coat. He smiled somewhat guiltily as Kayo turned her curious gaze to her brother. 

“Hi,” Keith murmured quietly, his eyes wide in surprise and his heart almost jumping for joy in his chest. He didn’t know what this meant, but all his mind was focusing on was that Lance was  _ here _ . “I didn’t know you were coming to visit.” 

“No, well I wanted to keep it a surprise, you know?” Lance said with a bright smile which suddenly drooped slightly at Keith’s expression. “Was that the wrong thing to do?” 

“N-No! Not at all,” Keith replied, aiming a glare at Kayo’s wiggling eyebrows. “It’s a nice surprise,” he finished quietly, his cheeks flushing as Lance’s smile grew again. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Kayo, Keith’s little sister,” Kayo introduced herself, bowing to Lance quickly before sticking her hand out for Lance to shake. “I suppose you’re the infamous Lance I’ve heard about?” 

Keith could see the obvious fear flickering across Lance’s bright blue eyes but Kayo was quick to reassure him, saying that she’d known about Keith since they were little children. She was quick to lead the two back towards the sitting room, pouring out another cup of tea for Lance while he put his suitcase in the guest bedroom. 

Keith found he couldn’t take his eyes off Lance, and realised that he’d missed him in the months the two of them had been apart. He watched as the other chatted amiably with Kayo, answering her probing questions easily with a kind smile and a laugh. 

Kayo didn’t stay for much longer as she’d been invited to dinner at their uncle’s. Nonetheless she nudged Keith’s side before she left, giving him a sly look as she left. Keith felt tempted to tell her off but he left it alone, watching as she disappeared down the street. 

Keith turned back into the house, finding the sitting room empty and he padded down the corridor towards the bedrooms. 

“Hi,” came Lance’s voice, and Keith’s eyes caught on his silhouette that was illuminated by the small light in his room. “I’m sorry I didn’t write to tell you I was coming. But I wanted to surprise you,” he said, and Keith’s eyes were dragged to his lip which was gently caught between his teeth. 

“No, no you’re fine,” Keith replied, and his stomach fluttered as Lance took a few small steps forward until noses were inches apart. His long and beautiful fingers suddenly came up to Keith’s head, picking the pencil from behind his ear. 

“Still, I should’ve warned you,” Lance almost whispered, his hot breath glancing over Keith’s nose. He held still, his chest barely rising and falling with his breathing as Lance gazed into his eyes. 

Everything fell away as their lips met in a searing, almost burning kiss, and Keith grabbed hold of the lapels of Lance’s shirt. He pulled the other into his room, sliding the paper door shut before turning back to him. He watched with wide eyes and kiss-swollen lips as the other unbuttoned his shirt. 

Keith only had a small futon in his room and as he fell on top of Lance and claimed his lips again, he distantly hoped that it would be enough for them to be comfortable.

\-- 

Keith woke to Lance’s arms wrapped around him. It felt warm and cosy under the bedclothes, and Keith tangled his legs with Lance’s as he sighed in content. The sun slanted in through the windows, and Keith realised how late it was with a small groan. Gently he eased himself out from under the duvet cover, tucking it back under Lance’s shoulder. He stretched out his back before making his way over to his desk. 

Lance had been staying for the week and it seemed he wasn’t about to leave any time soon which was completely fine by Keith. When he asked what his plan was, Lance didn’t specify but he made it a point to call his mother every morning to let her know how he was doing. 

Keith’s designs were better than they had been in a while, and Lance had taken to joking that it was his good luck that was helping him with his equations. Keith begged to differ but he didn’t argue with him. 

As he sat, his back arched over his papers and his fingers stained with lead from his pencil, he could almost picture his fighter soaring through the air, the flat-head rivets causing less drag and its shape allowing the wind to cut right over it. A gentle breeze fluttered in from outside which lifted his hair from his forehead. He suddenly felt Lance lean against his back, his chin heavy on Keith’s shoulder as he gazed at the other’s paper that was covered in equations. 

“Which one’s this one?” he asked, pressing a kiss to Keith’s temple as the other sketched the structure of a wing at the side of the page. 

“The Zeroes project,” Keith murmured, his dark eyes pinned to the page. Lance didn’t seem bored by Keith’s work, in fact he seemed curious by it, watching as the other’s gaze darted between the slide ruler and his piece of paper. “We have another test flight next week, if you’d like to come?” 

“Am I allowed?” Lance asked in surprise, his bright blue eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Well, not  _ technically _ ,” Keith said, “but I could ask my superior seeing as you’ve sat here watching me work. Might as well see the finished project.” 

Lance smiled at him, all gums and teeth before kissing him fully. He pulled away to make the two of them tea, leaving Keith to pour over his blueprints and sheets of paper. 

\-- 

The wind blew gently that day, blades of grass swaying beneath their feet as Keith and Lance watched the Zero project prepare for take off. The plane’s form was sleek and dynamic in design and the Japanese flag emblazoned proudly on its flank. 

It was a perfect day for flying; the sky was clear and blue with only a few scattered clouds drifting lazily. Keith subtly grabbed for Lance’s hand as the propeller started up, the sound cutting through the quiet of the afternoon. He could just see the pilot saluting him through the glass of the cockpit, and Keith held his breath as the plane shot across the makeshift runway. 

Its nose lifted up and as it lifted from the ground the wheels tucked into its belly smoothly, the propeller still going strong as it took to the skies. No one dared celebrate, however, until it touched down to earth again. Only then did Lance suddenly lift Keith up by his waist, a laugh bubbling out of the engineer’s chest in surprise. 

He didn’t mind being suddenly surrounded by his coworkers who congratulated him, and his hand got shaken so many times Keith couldn’t keep up with who was taking hold of it. All he knew was Lance’s hand on his lower back, his palm an anchor for Keith as he floated above the clouds. 

\-- 

He saw Caproni one last time, the rolling green plains a familiar sight by now as he bowed his head to the engineer. 

“Did you live your ten years well?” the Count asked, a kind smile on his lips. 

“Yes, I designed many planes, some of which didn’t return from the battlefield,” Keith said, his tone almost mournful for his projects. 

“Ah yes, but you gained much with what you lost, yes?” Caproni asked next, and Keith thought to his partner who was probably curled up next to him that very moment. 

“Yes, and I aim to live and experience every moment,” Keith said with an air of determination. 

“The wind is rising, we must try to live,” Caproni quoted, and Keith nodded with a smile, closing his eyes as the wind passed over him gently. “Come, I have a very nice bottle of wine waiting for us. And then you must get back to that partner of yours.” 


	7. Look up! - Last Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith’s brows furrowed in confusion as he stepped towards the door of the shop, pushing it open gently. The guy was dressed in a large green coat, his hands shoved in its pockets and his blue eyes fixed on something above him. 
> 
> “What’re you doing?” Keith asked, his tone almost judging as those gorgeous eyes fixed on his, and for a second his breath was stolen from his lungs. Fluffy brown hair danced in the wind that blew passed them, and a bright smile greeted Keith as slim fingers pointed above their heads. 
> 
> “Look up,” he said by way of explanation, and Keith glanced to the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely human beings! 
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! I wanted to get this last chapter out before Christmas Day because it is based on a Christmas film. However, please be warned you might need tissues for this because it gets a little bit sad. That being said, I have not properly looked over this because I have been exhausted and had planned to get it done today but then I had to do shopping for presents and the time flew - literally. 
> 
> (Just a forwarning this chapter does deal with illnesses and depression so if that upsets or triggers you in any way please do skip this chapter for your own mental health <3)
> 
> So I do hope you enjoy this last chapter of (Techni)Colour Vision. I've absolutely adored writing Klance again and doing NaNo this year has really lifted my creative spirits. And I hope you all had fun reading it! 
> 
> I hope you all have a peaceful Christmas however you'll celebrate it and a happy holidays! Stay safe, sane and happy my dears. <3

The soft sound of tiny footsteps was the only thing to herald his arrival as Keith suddenly barreled through the doors to the sitting room. 

“Mama! Mama look!” he cried, holding up his paint splattered hands for inspection. Although he was only six years old Keith had a voracious love for art. When asked what he wanted for Christmas that year he’d been adamant to ask Santa for an easel and new paint brushes. For now he had to stick with finger painting until the special day arrived. 

“Oh you’re a mess baby, what’ve you been up to?” Krolia asked, picking up her son to place him on her lap. Tex laughed from where he stood over the kitchen stove and Shiro glanced up from where he was doing his homework diligently. 

“I was painting!” Keith exclaimed proudly, displaying his hands to Shiro as well, his smile so wide it looked painful. “I’m painting a present for Shiro!” And that drew a smile just as wide from his older brother. 

“Am I allowed to see it yet, Keith?” he asked, his own smile mischievous even as his younger brother gasped in outrage. 

“No!” he shouted, furrowing his little eyebrows at his brother. “Not until Christmas!” and he suddenly dashed into the sitting room where they heard a loud commotion. He came out again and shut the door with a firm look at Shiro, who held up his hands in surrender. 

Krolia laughed loudly and joyfully, picking up her youngest and placing him on her hip. “Oh my little man, you’re gonna become an artist at eight years old at this rate,” she said with a laugh, and Keith’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. 

“Could I?” he asked in awe, and it drew a chuckle from the entire family. 

“If practise and paint every day I don’t see why not, squirt,” Tex said, ruffling Keith’s hair and drawing a giggle that sounded like bells to their ears. 

\-- 

London was unsurprisingly cold for the end of November, and Keith blew hot air on his fingers. He’d bundled himself up in his cheap fake leather jacket and woolen hat, hoping it would keep the cold at bay. The doctor had said that although he’d recovered, his immune system could still turn harmless colds into something fatal, so he had to stay diligent during the winter months. 

Leicester Square station was busy, almost heaving with rush hour passengers and Keith was happy to climb the stairs to street level. He was glad he’d left his work boots in his cubby hole, his jacket big enough to hide his uniform shirt, and the green trousers just about passing as normal clothes rather than the elf get up he was hiding.

He was going to be late, but honestly he couldn’t do anything about it. His phone had died during the night and he’d been powerless to sleep in because of it. So now here he was, desperately speeding through the streets and heading towards Covent Garden, his face tucked into the collar of his jacket. 

The job at the Christmas Store was meant to be temporary as he went through treatment, something light that didn’t take too much energy but was something that could keep him occupied. But now, three months out from treatment Keith hadn’t bothered to find another job, for all his boss could tell he didn’t enjoy what he did anymore. 

He stepped through the door as quietly as he could, which didn’t work as the bell overhead announced his presence loudly. His boss, Coran, watched as he stepped through to the back room, his brows furrowed in annoyance as Keith opened his cubby hole to tug out his boots and neatly fold his leather jacket inside. 

“You’re late,” Coran said, his face stern but his eyes filled with concern as Keith grumbled quietly. “You’ve never been late before, and yet this is the second time in a matter of five days.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard finding a stable place to sleep,” Keith said, knowing his excuse was thin because he had a perfectly good bed at his mother’s house. But he’d rather be couch surfing and quietly existing than having an irate caretaker/mother on his tail. He’d had enough of that when he was getting treatment. 

Coran seemed to take in Keith’s slightly pale pallor, and the dark bags under his eyes and decided to let it go. “Alright, but try not to do it again. And open up the shop please?” 

Keith was quick to do just that, the sound of the bell becoming constant as the day’s work began. The one bonus about the Christmas shop was that very few people bothered him. The ones that came in here knew what they wanted, and usually aimed for it as soon as they stepped through the threshold, the ones that did ask him tended to be tourists. 

That morning someone stepped through looking as if they were in a dream, and Keith watched as he met eyes with Coran across the way. Keith perked from his slumped over position as he watched the two men step towards each other reverently. He couldn’t hear what they were saying over the cheesy music that blasted from the speakers behind him but Keith watched as their hands grazed, and sparks seemed to fly between them. 

Keith wiggled his eyebrows at Coran as he came over, the bell jingling again to signal the man leaving. “He looked nice, did you get his number,” he asked slyly, and Coran’s cheeks almost turned as red as his mustache. 

He spluttered before regaining himself and nodding towards a pair of customers who stood waiting at the cash register. “I believe you still have some work, elf,” he said jokingly. 

“And  _ I  _ believe you have some wishes to fulfil, Santa,” Keith shot back, a cheeky smile twitching his lips as he made his way back behind the table. 

It wasn’t until the day was winding down that he saw him. Keith was helping the last customers in the shop for the evening, directing them towards the tinsel at the back of the shop when he glanced outside to the bustling square. Someone stood, their neck tilted back as far as it could go, staring at something above them. 

Keith’s brows furrowed in confusion as he stepped towards the door of the shop, pushing it open gently. The guy was dressed in a large green coat, his hands shoved in its pockets and his blue -  _ blue  _ \- eyes fixed on something above him. 

“What’re you doing?” Keith asked, his tone almost judging as those gorgeous eyes fixed on his, and for a second his breath was stolen from his lungs. Fluffy brown hair danced in the wind that blew passed them, and a bright smile greeted Keith as slim fingers pointed above their heads. 

“Look up,” he said by way of explanation, and Keith glanced to the sky, his dark eyes catching on the peregrine falcon perched on the edge of the roof. 

“Isn’t it amazing?” the guy asked, and Keith was about to reply when something dripped onto his forehead, and he exclaimed in disgust. 

“I’ve just been pooed on by a  _ bird _ ,” he cried out incredulously, glancing up to see the bird fly off. “I’ve got bird shit on my  _ face _ .” The other guy seemed to find it funny as he tried to keep his laughs from escaping. Keith flipped the animal off as he watched it disappear behind one of the other buildings and he cut the other guy a glare. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, already knowing the answer but daring the guy to say it as he took the offered handkerchief without a thank you. 

“Nothing,” came the reply, and Keith could see he was pressing his lips into a thin line. “You just got, just a  _ little  _ bit there,” he said, pointing to the corner of Keith’s eyebrow and chuckling quietly as he scrubbed at his skin. 

“Alright you’ve had your fun,” Keith grumbled, and he turned back into the shop, ignoring the guy as he called out his apologies. He watched from inside the warmth of the building as he grabbed his bike from beside him and pushed off, and Keith didn’t think about him for the rest of the day. 

\--

The bar was quiet at this time of night, and Keith sat hunched over the tabletop. The tip of his boots knocked gently against the hard shell of his suitcase as he stared forlornly at the black screen of his phone. His gloved hands cradled the beer close to his chest, the fabric cut off at his second knuckle so that his fingertips could feel the cold seep into his skin. 

He’d texted Pidge and Hunk not five minutes beforehand, asking whether he could crash for the night because of an incident with his flatmate that involved a cup of coffee and a computer keyboard. He wasn’t expecting a reply right away as Thursday nights were usually board game nights for those two. 

But as the minutes dragged, and his shoulders got lower and lower, Keith found himself digging in his pockets for a pencil. He glanced around for something to use that could substitute a piece of paper and found a napkin folded under his glass. It was a bit stained and rumpled but it would do for now. 

The guy from that morning had been stuck in Keith’s head, his bright blue eyes almost haunting him and his laugh looping over and over until Keith almost felt as if he were hovering over his shoulder. 

He focussed on it, keeping the sound in his head as his pencil began to sketch lines and circles over the tissue. It pulled and tugged with his strokes sometimes, and more than once did he grumble quietly wishing he’d brought a rubber but he finally managed to settle into the rhythm of it. 

He could feel his lips quirking as the music changed over the speakers to one of his favourites, the art flowing freely from his fingertips now. The slope of a nose began to take shape, a bright mischievous smile that was parted slightly in laughter and the high peak of cheekbones appeared on the paper. 

Keith could feel himself slipping into the welcoming warmth of his concentration, completely ignoring his bottle of beer and the amiable chatter that had surrounded him in favour for the feel of the lead of the pencil against the fibres beneath him. He didn’t even notice when someone had sat next to him until their fingers grazed against his elbow and his head snapped up in surprise. 

It was the guy in his drawing, standing with his hands in his pockets and his blue eyes intently taking in Keith’s drawing. He had to halt his fingers from drawing it closer to his body and hiding it in his pocket, his eyebrows going lower and lower down his forehead as the other suddenly realised he’d been staring. 

“Hi!” the guy said, his tone incredibly chipper and almost grating on Keith’s ears. Although on closer consideration, that could’ve just been because of the alcohol in his blood. “I see you managed to get the, um, bird poop off.” 

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Keith grumbled in return, watching with dark eyes as the other took a seat across from him, his smile still bright and unassuming. 

“Ah come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he replied, his smile drooping slightly at Keith’s harsh stare. 

“You got bird shit on my favorite jacket,” Keith said, but his growl didn’t have any intent. And the other laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. A silence descended on them which gave Keith a chance to slip the napkin into his pocket and check on his phone. 

“I’m Lance by the way,” he said after clearing his throat, holding out his hand for Keith to shake. Keith glanced at his hand suspiciously but he placed his own palm in Lance’s. 

“Keith,” he replied, ignoring the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach. 

\-- 

Pidge finally texted him back later that evening, right when he’d said goodbye to Lance at Piccadilly Circus. He’d been dragged on a walk by him, unable to stop his feet from following him. He felt as if he was feeding off of Lance’s energy as he was pulled from one place to another. 

He could feel the cloud that had been hovering over his shoulder descend once again when Lance left him, and he shoved one hand into his pocket, grabbed the handle of his suitcase, tucked his chin into the collar of his coat and made his way towards the tube station. He could physically feel his eyebrows drawing lower and lower down his forehead as he stepped onto the train. 

He felt his phone buzz against his side and realised he’d have to get off and change lines to get to their apartment. It was a five minute walk to their front door from the station, and the cold wind was beginning to bite into Keith’s bones as he rapped his knuckles against the wood. He could smell the food from outside the flat, and his mouth suddenly filled with saliva. 

Pidge was the one to open the door, aiming a harsh punch to his shoulder before she threw herself at him for a hug. “You don’t just drop off the face of the earth for three months and then only text me for a place to crash,” she told him angrily, her voice muffled by his jacket. 

“Sorry,” he murmured quietly, knowing how much worry he must’ve caused them. He spotted Hunk standing at the end of the small corridor, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder and a disapproving look pulling at his lips. Keith knew he messed up, he knew when he didn’t text either of them the first time but the frown on Hunk’s face hammered home the fact that he’d fucked up. 

He pulled Pidge to his side with one arm before stepping into the apartment, dragging his case behind him with his free hand. The gorgeous smell inside was intense, but Keith kept himself from going to check the stove because he was treading on eggshells with the two of them. 

After a time filled with silence that felt like it lasted hours where Pidge didn’t let go of his side, Hunk turned back from his cooking and presented two heaping plates of food. However, he seemed to hold Keith’s captive and pin him with the most serious look Keith had ever seen come from Hunk. 

“Why  _ did  _ you drop off the face of the earth for three months?” he asked sternly. “It wasn’t like we didn’t know about your procedure.” 

Keith sighed, knowing the two of them were looking for an explanation but realising swiftly that he didn’t have one. He stared at his fiddling fingers, guilt rearing its head, feeling like an overwhelming wave over his head as a silence descended over the room. 

“We had to rely on Shiro for updates and even he didn’t have much to give us because you suddenly left home and began couch surfing?” Hunk continued, and Keith could feel Pidge reaching for his hand to hold it tight. He let her untangle his fingers gently, her palm warm and comforting against his. 

“Home just isn’t where I want to be right now,” he offered up weakly, shoving down the feeling of tears in his eyes as Hunk sighed quietly. “I’ll try and find new digs, but is it still okay that I stay here for tonight?” 

Neither Hunk or Pidge could get anything else out of Keith, but they continuously traded concerned looks behind his back throughout the night. They kept the conversation going though, glad to have their friend back with them. 

\-- 

“You look worse than you did yesterday,” Coran commented to Keith the next morning, placing a box of ghastly decorations by his elbow to be put on the shelf. “Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes,” Keith replied, his tone almost a groan as he hoisted the cardboard into his arms. He actually did sleep well for once, although waking up to a crick in his neck from the sofa was never nice. “I just feel awful generally, happy?” 

“No, not really,” Coran commented, before swanning off to deal with another customer. 

Keith could feel his phone buzzing against his leg but he ignored it determinedly, already knowing who it possibly could be and deciding it was  _ way  _ too early to deal with that mess. It continued like that for most of the morning until Keith became fed up and shoved his phone in a drawer with a snap of wood. He drew a few looks but he plastered on the most convincing smile he could before turning to help another customer. 

It was around lunchtime that he happened to turn his gaze to the windows of the shop, hoping to see that guy - Lance - again when he actually saw someone he didn’t want to see for another year. He dropped his head in defeat, knowing he wouldn’t go away until he actually went out to talk with him. 

“Coran, I’ll just be two secs,” he called to his boss before throwing his ridiculous hat onto the wood of the table and strode purposefully into the cold wind. 

“Hi Shiro,” he grumbled, not even attempting to plaster on a smile for his older brother. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” 

The other levelled him with a hard stare, pulling his phone out of his pocket to show Keith the screen. “You need to call Mom,” was his reply, “because whenever you don’t answer Keith,  _ I  _ get called on and she doesn’t seem to understand that I’m sometimes in very important meetings.” 

“That’s not  _ my  _ fault,” Keith snapped irritably, crossing his arms over his chest and repressing a shiver that was inching up his spine. It had suddenly turned colder during the time he’d spent in the shop, and he subtly put his hands under his armpits. 

“Yes, it is. Because you’re not answering your phone, or your emails or texts!” Shiro exclaimed, his voice inching up in volume and making Keith wince slightly. 

“I’ve been...busy,” Keith mumbled weakly, casting his eyes to the floor to avoid his brother’s disapproving look. Shiro scoffed quietly before turning on his heel and tossing a demand for him to answer his mother’s calls. 

The warmth of the shop was a blessing as Keith stepped back through the door frame. It was only a half an hour later when Keith was passing the duster over the decorations as his last job of the day that he saw him. Lance sat perched on his bike, giving Keith a little wave when he spotted him. It spurred Keith to finish his chore quickly, grabbing his suitcase from the back room and stepping into the cold air. He clutched his jacket closer to himself, his elf costume doing little to protect him but he gave Lance a small smile. 

“Hello again,” Lance greeted him with a bright smile. 

“You definitely came to see me, didn’t you,” Keith said jokingly, drawing a laugh from the other that sent his heart pulsing in his chest. 

“No, more like I wanted to check on your eye after the poo incident yesterday,” Lance commented. 

“Oh yeah, thanks for the help by the way after you got me shit on in the first place,” Keith said, but his tone had very little venom in it as he watched Lance swing his long leg over the seat of his bike to walk with Keith. 

“I thought we’d have a nice walk,” Lance told him, and Keith laughed for the first time in what felt a long time. 

“Why do you want to take me on a walk? I’m not a dog,” he quipped with a small smile, watching as Lance chuckled at his joke. His laugh did something to Keith’s stomach, sending the butterflies that had taken residence there to go absolutely crazy. 

“If you don’t want to it’s fine! I thought it would be a nice idea though,” Lance said, giving Keith an out but the other shook his head, thinking it’d be a good idea to do something different. 

“No, it’s okay,” he said with a laugh and the two of them began to walk away from the shop, and Keith had a passing thought that Coran would be able to lock up. 

London with Lance seemed so different to what Keith had always seen in the twelve years he’d lived there. He continuously said for Keith to look up, pointing out things the other wouldn’t have seen otherwise since his head was forever stuck in his music or his phone. 

Keith found himself actually enjoying taking it slow in the city that would be always moving, spotting things on streets that he had never noticed before and dragging in as much of Lance’s energy and enthusiasm he could. He knew he couldn’t keep sleeping on sofas, and his phone was almost constantly buzzing in his pocket now. 

“You look distracted?” Lance suddenly said as they came to a stop, watching as Keith denied another call with a small frown on his face. 

“No, it’s just my mom. She wants me home soon because I’ve spent so long avoiding her,” Keith replied, and he spotted Lance’s concerned gaze and realised that would be the last straw. 

With a quiet groan Keith pulled up a number that he knew off by heart, dialing it easily but with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Lance’s intense blue eyes on his form. 

“Hey,” he said into the phone, his tone quiet and voice shaking slightly, “I need a cab.” 

He listened to the reply and nodded, “yeah, I’m just on Leicester square. See you in a bit.” He hung up quickly, letting out a quiet breath and turning back to Lance. 

“All okay?” he asked with a concerned gaze, and Keith nodded in reply, a weight settling on his chest. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll head home if that’s alright?” he asked. 

“Of course! I’ll come by tomorrow,” Lance said by way of goodbye, hopping back up onto his bike and pushing off with a wave, leaving Keith waiting on the curb for a familiar red car to pull up a few minutes later. 

The ride passed in comfortable silence, and Keith felt incredibly grateful for the silence. He suddenly had time to gather himself for the inevitable smothering he’d receive when he’d walk through the door, fingering his phone that lay in his lap and watching the streets and buildings flit past. 

The car finally came to a stop in front of a semi-detached house, one side bare of decoration whilst the one beside it had enough to almost challenge the stock in the christmas shop. Keith unbuckled slowly before inching forward in his seat and wrapping his arms around his dad. 

“Thanks for the ride dad,” he mumbled into his jumper, breathing in his familiar scent before pulling away again. “You coming in?” 

“Nah, your mom would rip into me if I came in early,” he replied with a laugh, but Keith could hear the guilty tone underneath. “You go ahead, I know she’s been dying to see you.” 

Keith stepped out from the car, hefting his case out with him and trundling up the small pathway that led to the door. He hesitated on the step, turning to watch his dad drive down the street before gently knocking on the wood. He waited a few seconds before trying again.

“Mom?” he called out, shuffling his feet slightly as he waited for a reply. He could hear the thudding of footsteps behind the door and braced himself as it was unlocked and thrown open.

His mother grabbed for his shoulders, pulling him towards her chest and cradling him for a few seconds. Keith didn’t protest, knowing she needed these few seconds of intimate contact before she pulled back, pinning Keith with a look that would give a grown man shivers. 

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer my calls, texts, emails or even Snapchats!” she exclaimed, running her fingers through his hair in concern. Keith bit his tongue to avoid commenting that he was surprised she could even figure out how to work Snapchat and just let her drag him through the door. 

“I’ve been...busy,” he mumbled, his feet dragging as she brought him into the kitchen. 

“And you look terrible,” she commented, lifting his chin to see him in the light. His nose scrunched in annoyance but again he didn’t comment. “I think I have some food left over for last night.” And she began to rummage in the fridge, pulling countless tupperware from its depths and placing them on the table. 

Keith groaned internally, knowing that this is what he signed up for the second he climbed into his dad’s car. 

\-- 

The next morning saw his mother dragging him to his doctor’s appointment, and apparently she wasn’t happy with the fact that he’d missed five already but she brushed it off anyway. 

The questions were routine, and boring but it seemed that he and his mother were on completely different pages, maybe even reading different  _ books  _ as she answered differently to him every time. By the end of it, his hands had crescent shaped indents from his fingernails but he was proud of himself that he didn’t blow up in the doctor’s office. Although it was a near thing. 

The shop was surprisingly empty that afternoon but Coran still had a surplus of work for Keith to do even though he wasn’t serving any customers. He was getting to the point where he’d gladly punch a baby jesus if it meant he could be fired and not have to deal with the incessant awful christmas music. 

He spent his lunch hour in the backroom, a piece of paper and sketch pencil in his hand as he tried to get a perfect rendition of Lance on his bike. Something was wrong with it though, and Keith had to take a step back before he caused bodily harm to the drawing. 

Coran’s man friend who was  _ not  _ a crush came back again that afternoon and Keith had been quick to take the customers he had been dealing with to the shelves upon shelves of nutcrackers as requested. He watched slyly out of the corner of his eye as the two of them chatted, and he mentally commented on how he’d never seen Coran smile as widely as he did then. 

A tap on the glass of the door announced Lance’s arrival that evening, but the other surprised Keith as he requested to come in and help with his cleaning. 

“Wow,” Lance said as he stepped through the door, “I don’t think I’ve seen this many decorations in one place.” 

“Coran says it’s because he’s Australian so he has a lot of ‘contacts’ in Asia,” Keith said as he stepped over to grab a box of tree decorations that needed to be put up. “I just think he had some of this stuff in his storage cupboard, waiting for when he’d inevitably open this shop.” 

Lance laughed at that, following Keith up the winding staircase to the top floor of the shop. It seemed the top was as bad as the bottom, the shelves and wooden banister covered in fairy lights and decorations. Keith had turned off the speakers in the shop, leaving the two of them in blissful silence as Keith tugged the sellotape on the cardboard. 

“So,” Lance began, breaking the amiable silence that had formed between them. “You went home in the end then?”

“Yeah, travesty that I knew it was going to be,” Keith grumbled, hanging a bright red bauble on the plastic branch of the tree. 

“Oh it can’t be  _ that  _ bad?” Lance asked, but dropped it at Keith’s unamused expression. 

“I just think she doesn’t realise that I’m well enough to take care of myself now,” Keith said, and this time Lance aimed an unamused look at him. “Sometimes,” Keith admitted. 

“Is that such a bad thing though?” Lance asked, making a face at one of the ghastly decorations he hung up. 

“It is when your mother smothers you,” Keith grumbled. “And it’s not just in the health stuff, she asks about my job, my art, what I’m eating, what I’m drinking.” 

“And?” Lance asked, and at Keith’s confused look he continued. “How is your job, art, eating and drinking regime? And your sleep, those bags will definitely need to be checked in.” 

Keith laughed, throwing a piece of tinsel at his head in jest as the two of them fell quiet. 

The two of them continued to keep the friendly chatter up as they worked, and Keith found himself falling comfortably into the ambiance that surrounded them. When they’d finished and Keith had locked up and changed out of his uniform, Lance held out a hand to him. 

“Come on, I have something to show you,” he said with a twinkle of mirth in his blue eyes, and Keith hesitantly took his hand, letting the other drag him along the streets of London until they reached a dark alleyway. 

“Has anyone told you you have something very serial killer-y about you?” Keith asked as he continued to follow Lance down the small space. 

“No,” Lance chirped back, jumping over a large vent gracefully and turning back to Keith with a wide grin. “You need a hand?” 

“Nope,” Keith replied, stubbornly swinging his booted foot up onto the metal with a hard clang and hoisting himself up onto the metal with some slight difficulty and a quiet groan. 

“You’re fine,” Lance said with a wave of his hand, beginning to climb the metal ladder that stood next to Keith’s head. “Graceful.” 

“Shut up,” Keith snapped back, a tone of laughter under the words. “Never wanted kids anyway,” he continued, pulling himself up the metal bars until he breached the ‘surface’. 

It felt colder than the alley way, and Keith watched with a raised brow as Lance held his hands up in an imitation of a gun and told him to stay back. 

“You’re seriously doing a James Bond impression?” he asked, his brows raised in an unimpressed look that had Lance dropping his hands with a blush and nervous hand rubbing his neck. Keith rolled his eyes good naturedly before he grabbed for the other’s hand and tugged him through the door. 

Lance pulled on a lever next to him, illuminating the ice skating rink that lay before them. Keith glanced at him in slight confusion and concern as he’d never even set  _ foot  _ on an ice rink. But Lance smiled brightly at him, lifting up two pairs of skates from god knows where and pulling him towards the benches. 

Keith was glad he’d decided to wear his thicker jeans that day as he spent more time on his ass than he did on his feet. But Lance seemed to get a huge kick out of it, his laughter ringing throughout the room loudly and brightly. Keith scowled at him playfully, and with hardly any vitriol as the other pulled him to his feet over and over. 

Keith knew what they were doing was probably illegal, they’d most likely get caught and maybe have to pay a fine if they did. But for a blissful half an hour, he didn’t care. At least, not until the door was suddenly slammed open and a guard shouted at the two of them to leave. They scrambled as quickly as they could to get off the ice and laughed as they tried to jog up the alleyway in their skates. 

“That was fun,” Lance commented with a chuckle as the two of them sat down on the bench. “I’ll make sure never to go into that rink again.” 

Keith laughed quietly as he fiddled with the fabric of his gloves. “Yeah, a good first date,” he murmured, and something sparkled in Lance’s blue eyes. Keith suddenly realised how close together they were sitting but he didn’t make a move to adjust, just staring into the pools of beautiful sapphire with a dopey grin on his face until Lance suddenly cleared his throat. 

“How’re you gonna get home?” he asked, and Keith could feel it when his body came crashing back to earth and he groaned. He didn’t want to deal with his family now but he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Bus, I suppose,” he said, knowing it would be a bit too late for his dad to pick him up again. “Will I see you tomorrow though?” 

“Maybe,” Lance said cheekily, gently nudging Keith’s shoulder with his. 

They separated when the bus arrived, and Keith made his way towards the back of the vehicle to wave one final goodbye to Lance out the back of the glass. He smiled at Lance as the other swung himself around a light post to accentuate his farewell and as the bus pulled away Keith turned around in his seat, pulling out his phone and earpods to let himself sink into his music. 

As he stepped through the front door, he suddenly noticed how noisy it was and he could hear his whole family from the hallway. He gently hung up his leather jacket, pulling the sleeves of his red jumper down to his fingertips as he took a tentative step into the kitchen. 

“Hi,” he called out, and a chorus of greetings answered him from the sitting room where they’d placed their small dinner table. It meant Krolia had access to the window into the kitchen so that she could pass out food with ease, and so that they had a view of the television for when they’d have tv dinner nights. Which, now that Keith thought about, they hadn’t done in a while. 

“Where’ve you been?” Krolia asked him as he stepped up to his chair. Her hands pushed back his fringe to place her palm against his forehead and Keith grumbled loudly, batting at her hands gently so that he could sit down. 

Keith was about to ask what the big dinner was about before he caught Shiro’s gaze and he remembered about his big promotion at the law firm. “I was with a friend,” he finally told Krolia, taking a seat at the table and grabbing for the vegetable dish. 

“Oh? Anyone I know?” she asked, heaping Tex’s plate with food before doing the same for Keith’s. 

“No, it’s a new person I met at work,” Keith explained, trying to be vague so that they could move on from that strand of conversation. 

He didn’t want much to eat, and he could see Shiro’s expression turning stormy as he pushed away every dish Krolia tried to hand him. 

“Mom, no I’m fine,” Keith protested as she pushed some meat onto his plate. “I’m really not that hungry.” And he glanced up as Shiro scoffed harshly. 

“”You’re not hungry for mom’s cooking?” he asked, and a silence fell over the table. “There is always  _ something  _ up with you Keith. You’re hungry, you’re not hungry, you’re tired.” 

Keith didn’t say a word, keeping his gaze pinned on Shiro’s expression as his brother seemed to get more annoyed by the second. Their parents made no move to stop it, the two of them never having seen the brothers like this before. 

“God, you’re so  _ tiresome  _ Keith,” he finished, and Keith glared at him hard as Krolia quietly admonished her eldest child. 

“Take it easy on him hon, he’s ill,” Krolia said, and Keith flinched infetismilly. 

“He’s not ill anymore mom,” Shiro protested at the same time as Tex, but Krolia suddenly swung her harsh gaze on her husband. 

“And what do you know?” she suddenly exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “What do you know about anything of this family when you’re never here?” 

“I’m not ill anymore mom,” Keith protested quietly, wishing he’d stayed out or gone to a bar. 

“If he’s not ill then why does he still work at a silly christmas shop when he was always the bright one?” Krolia suddenly asked, and Shiro exclaimed in indignation before he was silenced by his mom’s stern gaze. “You’re a  _ very  _ hard worker.” 

“Yeah apparently with my pathetic, inferior little brain!” Shiro exclaimed, not noticing how Keith was sinking in his seat slightly, his fingers coming up to rub at his chest gently. 

“He’s wasting his life which only a  _ miracle  _ saved,” Krolia continued, and Keith didn’t even dare to chip in. “And you have a job you dream of.” 

“Yeah except I didn’t dream of it did I?  _ You  _ did,” Shiro said, his voice raising in volume. “Dad can’t be a lawyer here so I had to be no matter what  _ I  _ might’ve wanted to actually do.” 

Tex subtly took a gulp from his glass of wine, casting his dismayed eyes to the table which was ignored by all but Keith. “Would you rather drive a minicab?” he asked self-deprecatingly. 

“Look what it’s done, he looks thousands of years old,” Krolia said, gesturing to their father. 

“Oh thanks,” Tex said sarcastically, his dark eyes taking on a betrayed look as Shiro suddenly barreled on. 

“And you, you think it’s absolutely acceptable to sit there and say he’s cleverer than me and I’m meant to swallow it just because she’s been ill,” he exclaimed, and Keith sighed tiredly. 

“Shiro, calm down,” he said, turning his gaze towards his brother.

“No don’t you  _ dare  _ tell me to calm down,” Shiro exclaimed as their parents joined Keith in trying to disrupt the tension that had suddenly draped itself over the dining table. “You don’t  _ care  _ about  _ anything,  _ Keith because you’re ashamed of who you are.” 

And Keith suddenly felt a hot anger bubble up in his stomach, feeling as if something else had taken hold of him as he opened his mouth. “Oh  _ I’m  _ ashamed of who  _ I  _ am? What about you?” Keith asked, and Shiro scoffed again, folding his arms over his chest. “Where’s Adam?” 

And Keith watched as his older brother’s face fell, his body shuffling in his seat in shame. “Shut up,” he murmured quietly. 

“On your big celebration dinner, where is your boyfriend?” Keith asked harshly, the silence that had descended over the table deafening. Shiro aimed Keith with a betrayed look, his eyes shining with tears. 

“Adam?” Krolia asked. “Adam is Shiro’s flatmate.” 

“Yeah and that’s how it’s always going to be, I bet  _ he’s  _ really happy about that?” Keith continued, his dark eyes filled with anger at his brother. 

“You’re a piece of work,” Shiro finally said, standing briskly from the table and leaving the room. Tex followed after him with a disappointed look to Keith, another silence falling over the dining table as the door to Shiro’s old bedroom slammed shut. 

Keith could feel nausea bubbling in his stomach, and he abruptly stood from his seat too, leaving with a quiet goodbye to his mother as he ventured out into the cold night air. 

\--

Keith could feel himself slipping. He hadn’t seen Lance in days, he’d taken to sneaking in and out of the house as he did when he was a teenager and he’d become as grumpy as he had been the first few weeks of his treatment. 

Back then, painting had been his one saving grace from the spiral that had been his mind. Now it seemed even that had lost Keith’s interest. He wandered the places he’d met Lance at, and his head was kept on a swivel so that he could keep an eye out for him. 

He’d taken to turning his phone off and either leaving it in his bag, or the drawer beneath the cash register at work. He ignored all calls and texts that came through, not wanting to talk to anyone at that moment. It seemed that even Coran had picked up on his mood, but the man always had a kind smile and a fresh coffee for Keith when he came through the door. 

Lance finally made a reappearance a week later just outside the shop, and Keith tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice, avoiding Lance’s eyes while wiping the tears from his own. 

“Where’ve you been?” Keith asked, trying to keep the desperate anger from his tone and the tears from spilling over. “You’ve been gone a whole  _ week  _ Lance.” 

“I’m sorry,” the other said, reaching out to place a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his expression almost heartbroken as Keith shuffled forward to lay his head against Lance’s chest. He stayed there for a few seconds, trying to collect his dignity from where it lay by his feet. 

When he pulled back Lance was quick to grab his hand, holding his bike with the other and giving Keith an encouraging smile. “Come on,” he said with a tilt of his head. 

“Where’re we going?” Keith asked, slightly confused as Lance began to lead him away from the shop and across the large courtyard. He liked having his hand held, even if his gloves impeded him from feeling Lance’s palm against his. It almost made him feel safe. 

“I’m taking you home,” Lance told him, but Keith’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He didn’t say a word as the two of them walked the streets of London, Christmas decorations bright and colourful and hanging over their heads as they walked. 

The walk to Lance’s apartment gave Keith a chance to settle himself. He hadn’t realised how close he was to shutting down as he had just then. He never knew how much he  _ depended  _ on Lance until he disappeared for a week. He wouldn’t tell him that though, that would surely drive him off in two seconds flat. 

Lance left his bike just outside his apartment and brought Keith up the flight of stairs that led to his front door. “It is very neat in there but please don’t feel awkward about it, I don’t mind a bit of mess,” he said as he turned the key in the lock. 

He wasn’t kidding when he said it was neat, there was hardly anything out of place in the main area, and Keith felt as if he could feel the grime and dirt sticking to his skin and clothes, staining the apartment just by being here. 

“Take a seat,” Lance said kindly, gesturing to the area but Keith stared at the perfectly made bed and shook his head. 

“No, I might crease something or sprinkle dirt,” he replied dramatically, and his heart fluttered at Lance’s chuckle. “I might just sit on the floor,” he continued, coming down to the ground with a thud and leaning his back against the cupboard. 

Lance tilted his head in confusion, but Keith could see the corners of his lips twitching as he sat down too, crossing his legs underneath him gracefully. A companionable silence fell over them, but Keith could feel his emotions pressing against his chest and a great urge to explain himself. 

“How was the promotion dinner?” Lance asked quietly, and Keith couldn’t help the snort of self-deprecating laughter that burst from his lips. He hadn’t heard anything from Shiro and he hadn’t even tried to talk to his parents. He didn’t think he had the capacity to. 

Seeing Keith’s face Lance winced. “That bad, huh?” 

“I don’t think my brother will want to see me ever again,” Keith groaned, burying his face in his hands and willing his nose to stop itching as if he were about to cry again. “But that’s fine, totally fine.” 

He glanced up to see Lance’s concerned gaze on him and averted his own gaze. “Can I...tell you something?” he asked hesitantly, and Lance nodded in reply. 

“I wasn’t always like this,” Keith began, his eyes locked onto the blue pools before him and allowing his mouth to just run with itself. 

“What, dashingly handsome?” Lance asked in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood but it only served to make a tiny smile quirk at Keith’s lips. Once the silence fell again Keith drew in a large breath, shoving the ball of nerves down into his stomach. 

“I had a heart transplant a few months ago,” he said, his voice dipping to no more than a murmur and his chest tightening slightly, “and I don’t talk about it with people cause they get weird.” 

Lance’s blue eyes widened slightly before his fingers inched forward to take hold of Keith’s. “I won’t get weird,” he told him, his tone so utterly genuine Keith thought the tears were going to overflow at that one sentiment. 

He carefully slipped his hands from Lance’s to pull his red jumper up and over his head, gently pulling down on the collar of his t-shirt so that the healing scar was exposed to the air. It was still slightly pink and sometimes during the night Keith would wake to the sharp feeling of a scalpel digging into his skin. 

Keith held absolutely still as Lance reached out a finger, the sensation of it running against the sensitive tissue sending a shiver down Keith’s spine. 

“They took it,” he finally said, his voice wobbling slightly as a tear rolled down his cheek. “They took my heart and expected me to- to just get  _ on  _ with life. I don’t know what they put back but it feels weird and strange, and like they took my most special part.” 

Lance quickly swung himself around, tucking his arm over Keith’s shoulders in comfort. Keith sniffled quietly, using the end of his sleeve to wipe his nose. 

“How can I keep going if I feel half dead?” he asked quietly, leaning his head against Lance’s shoulder. “They said I was lucky to be alive,” he continued, swallowing hard, “but how can I be lucky if I don’t  _ feel  _ alive? Like I’m meant to just be happy with life and be normal again.” 

“There’s no such thing as normal,” Lance suddenly said, taking Keith’s hand in his, “it’s a stupid word. Does a lot of damage.” 

Another silence fell over the two of them, the only sound filling the apartment being the traffic outside. Keith suddenly, but gently, poked Lance in the arm. 

“You’re the only one who can make me feel alright,” he said, the weight behind his words almost palpable as he glanced up to lock gazes with Lance. “Solid.” 

“Someone said something to me that helped when I felt sad,” Lance said, after a few seconds of quiet, his thumb rubbing circles into Keith’s knuckle. “Every action of every common day makes or unmakes character.”

Keith could feel the tears welling in his eyes as he listened and the comforting warmth of Lance’s palm against his as he continued. “It just means that you’re built of everything you do. And that’s okay,” he said, and Keith turned his body towards Lance’s side, clutching desperately at his clothes as his shoulders shook with rough sobs, a sudden weight lifted from his chest and shoulders. 

\--

Keith began to do better after his talk with Lance, doing little things everyday to build himself up as the other had suggested. He began to leave out some food for his dad when he came home from work, he spent some afternoons with his mom either on the sofa or in the studio at the back of the house which smelt of paint and wood chips. 

He’d taken to bringing in coffee when he arrived at work earlier than Coran, leaving the steaming cup at the table while he worked the register. It appeared that he and the guy who had come in the few weeks prior had beforehand were dating now. Keith spent the whole of that afternoon listening to Coran gush over him, and he couldn’t wipe his own goofy smile off his face when the other asked about Lance. 

He would come around every evening where he’d walk Keith to the bus stop, and he made sure to tell the other when he’d be missing for a day or two. It was on one of the days he was gone that Keith made an appointment with a gallery owner. 

He wanted to get back into the swing of his art, and what better way to do that than with a small exhibition of some of his work. Before he had the heart transplant he’d had a few shows throughout the year. Usually they were in galleries that were less well known, and Keith was used to seeing the same people at the showings. 

He was very surprised when the owner knew of him, and even more so when she gushed about his work and happily agreed to host an exhibition for him. He was incredibly grateful and told her as much multiple times. 

The exhibition gave him an excuse to paint and draw again, and he found himself bringing his backpack to work with his art supplies stowed safely inside. He took to drawing whatever caught his fancy, letting his pencil flow freely across the page, and at home he spent the evening with his easel and paints. 

He’d had the perfect opportunity to paint his mother one evening as she’d curled up on the sofa in the studio, her legs tucked underneath her and face completely peaceful. With a smile Keith had pulled his hair up into a ponytail, his paintbrush familiar between his fingers as he got to work. He’d been able to hide it from her before she woke up, but she seemed suspicious of him when he asked her not to look underneath his work table. 

The opportunity to apologise to Shiro came a few days later. With a bottle of whiskey in his bag Keith took the subway to Hammersmith, taking the short stroll to Shiro’s street with his ears free from headphones, letting the hubbub of the city wash over him. 

He stood hesitantly at the door, his gloved hand curled into a fist and ready to rap against the wood. He could feel his anxiety curl in his stomach, almost reaching to his hand in an attempt to lower his arm and turn him right back around. But he steeled himself, and knocked on the door three times in succession. 

It opened with a slight creek, and Keith was met with someone he didn’t know. He had dark skin and hair, and glasses perched on his nose. The two of them glanced at each other in confusion as Keith opened his mouth hesitantly. 

“Are you Adam?” he asked finally, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Yes, who’re you?” the other replied, tossing the tea towel he’d held in his fingers over his shoulder. Keith was suddenly reminded of how Hunk did that when he was mad, but he pushed that to the back of his mind as he pasted on a small smile. 

“I’m Keith,” he said hesitantly, “Shiro might’ve told you about me.” He watched in disappointment as the kind look in his eyes slipped and became hard, his brows coming down low on his brow. 

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Adam said shortly, moving to shut the door. Keith darted forward, placing the palm of his hand against the wood and crying out for the other to wait. 

“Can you just tell him I’m sorry? For what I did at the dinner party, I was a dick and I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Keith said. 

“Yeah you shouldn’t have,” Adam said, his tone crisp and not giving Keith any leeway at all. “Why did you?” 

Keith floundered for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth like a fish until his brain grasped at the words floating around. “I was angry, and sad which I know isn’t an excuse for what I did,” he finally said, feeling as if he were being scolded by a teacher when Adam crossed his arms. 

Keith didn’t know what else to say, and he was about to turn around and leave when Shiro joined Adam at the front door, his expression stormy but his eyes holding a glimmer of something Keith couldn’t describe. 

“What you did was really shitty,” Shiro told him, stepping over the threshold so that he was two steps away from his brother. “That was meant to be something I had to tell mom and dad when  _ I  _ felt ready, not something you can throw out into the open and expect me to forgive you for it.” 

“I know,” Keith said quietly, ducking his head so his eyes were glued to his boots, “and I’m  _ really  _ sorry.” 

There was a moment of silence, and Keith was about to turn on his heels and leave the two of them alone when Shiro suddenly clamped his hand on his shoulder. Keith’s breath hitched slightly, but he held still as he was drawn towards his brother’s chest in a tight hug. He let his arms come up gently before he gripped Shiro’s shirt in his hands, holding on for dear life. 

“I’m so sorry,” Keith murmured into Shiro’s chest, and Keith almost slumped into his hold as his brother brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair as he did when they were kids. 

“And I’m sorry for being such a jackass to you,” he replied, and Keith almost pushed him away in shock but Shiro kept him where he was. He pressed his lips to the top of his little brother’s head, realising how much better he looked to a few weeks ago. “You’ve had a really shit time, huh.” 

Keith laughed wetly at that, his shoulders shaking under his brother’s supportive hold. 

\--

Elated with the reaction he’d received from Shiro Keith decided to beat Lance to the punch, taking the bus and heading straight for his apartment. He could sense something settling within him, as if that one singular encounter with his brother had calmed him to the point that his cheeks hurt from the wide smile on his face. 

He didn’t think much of the door being open, in fact he didn’t really register it as he pushed it open and practically thundered up the stairs. “Lance!” he called as he stepped into the hallway of the flat. 

“Hello?” someone else called back, and a man in a brown trench coat and a suit stepped out from the kitchen. He held a phone to his ear and his brows were furrowed as he took in Keith’s frazzled look. He stepped forward with his finger gesturing to Keith. “Are you...Mrs Hastings?” 

“No, I’m looking for Lance,” Keith said, glancing around the empty and familiar apartment. “I’m guessing he’s coming up soon?” 

“Oh I’m sure about it,” the other said. “Shall we get started?” 

“Shall we?” Keith asked, slightly confused about what was going on but it seemed the other took it as his cue and suddenly gestured to the whole apartment. 

“Well this is it,” he said, “as you can see very small, but very neat. Obviously lots of storage space.” 

“Wait what?” Keith suddenly cut it, a slight feeling of dread pooling in his stomach as the other turned around with a confused look on his face. 

“Are you not here for the apartment showing?” he asked. 

“No, no I’m looking for  _ Lance  _ the owner of this apartment,” Keith told him, trying to keep his tone as civil as possible. 

“I’m sorry sir but no one has lived here for months,” the man replied. “It’s been on probate since last christmas. The previous owner died I believe, a tragic accident with a bus.” 

Keith suddenly felt as if he’d had a rug pulled out from under his feet, and he distantly felt his legs crumple beneath him. Last Christmas, when he’d received a heart from a complete stranger. When Lance had seemingly died from a bus accident. When Lance’s heart was transplanted into Keith’s chest. 

He batted the other man’s hand away and pulled himself to his feet again. He had to leave, he had to talk to Lance, he had to do  _ something  _ that wasn’t standing still because if he did that Keith wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to get his feet moving. 

He found himself making his way towards the small park Lance had shown him on one of their outings. Secluded from the road and hidden from sight it was frequented by a few people but not many. No one was there that late in the evening which was a blessing because Keith could feel his tears cooling on his cheeks from the temperature. 

He took a seat on the bench the two of them had frequented, folding his arms over his chest and burying his hands into his armpits to protect his fingers from the cold. A silence fell over him for a few seconds as he attempted to get his thoughts under control and his breathing stable. 

He didn’t even hear Lance’s footsteps as he approached, but something  _ inside  _ Keith alerted him to his presence, and that seemed to hammer home what Keith had realised. 

“Why can I see you?” he asked morosely, sniffling and trying to keep his voice steady as he stared at the other’s forlorn gaze. 

“Because you carry the most special part of me,” he replied quietly, sitting next to Keith and wrapping him in a warm hug. It felt so real Keith was certain he’d start crying again. He clutched onto Lance’s coat tightly, watching his knuckles turn white with the pressure he placed on them. 

Lance pulled back gently after a few minutes, bringing up his finger to press against Keith’s scar through his clothes. He had a kind smile on his face but his gaze was very serious as he pegged Keith with a look. “Take care of my heart, yeah? It was always going to be yours one way or another,” he said with a chuckle. 

He stood from his seat, letting Keith grab hold of his fingers and squeeze them one last time as he left, leaving the other to his thoughts as a gentle snow began to fall around him. 

He could feel his thoughts spiralling as he went over each of his encounters with Lance, and realising he had never really been there. But if he hadn’t been there why did he feel so solid under Keith’s fingers as they glided over the ice? Why did his arms feel so warm wrapped around his shoulders in his apartment? 

He had been one to watch the X-files as a kid, and the Twilight Zone with Shiro but he’d never thought he’d meet a spirit in real life. Let alone fall in love with one. But he didn’t find himself freaking out or panicking, in fact he felt something within him settle at the thought of having someone like Lance watching over him. 

He sat on the bench for a little bit longer, watching the snowflakes drift from the grey coloured sky and feeling his heart beat thump against his ribcage, almost sense that Lance was still there with him even if he’d disappeared into the snow flurry around him. 

\--

January rolled around cold and bleak, but Keith barely noticed. Most of his time was spent in the art studio, covering his clothes in paint and his fingers in charcoal as he created piece after piece to put up in the small gallery exhibition he was planning. 

He spotted the proud glint in his mother’s eyes as her gaze flicked over his art, but she mainly left him be. Shiro and Adam came around more often, and the entire small family spent Christmas day together. Keith found himself smiling more, and he spent a whole afternoon with both Hunk and Pidge catching up on the three months they’d lost. 

Keith left his favourite painting till last, taking out his largest canvas he owned and covering it in blue paint. He didn’t let anyone into the studio as he worked that day, taking to blast his music in his ears to keep his concentration as he made wide strokes with his brush. He felt inspired by the feelings running through his veins, the fire that burned in his gut and a massive portrait of Lance materialised on the canvas. 

Keith stepped back to take in his creation when he’d finished, wiping the slight bit of sweat from his brow. It had taken him three solid days to finish it, only coming out from the studio for meals as there was a small bathroom inside for projects like this. He felt incredibly proud of it, and his heart practically beat out of his chest when it was displayed at the exhibition. 

He’d spent most of the evening greeting guests and thanking them for coming, a glass of cheap champagne in his hand but still almost full as he hadn’t felt the need to take a sip. He could feel the smile on his fist grow wide as the gallery grew busier and busier, and Keith was so swept up in the atmosphere that he didn’t notice the family wandering in. 

The mother’s eyes immediately locked on the centre piece - the portrait of Lance in the shades of blues and turquoise Keith had to hand when he’d painted it. Keith was talking with Hunk and Pidge so he didn’t notice when the woman grabbed hold of her son’s hand in shock, and he didn’t see the rest of the family take in the art with awe. 

Keith felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to meet a pair of extremely familiar blue eyes. His breath hitched for a second before his shoulders relaxed as he took in the rest of the person. Now that he looked closer he realised the lady’s eyes were brimming with tears. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she began, and Keith could hear the wobble in her voice. “But did you paint these?” 

“I did, yeah,” Keith replied quietly, and he flinched back infetismally when she gently took his hand in hers, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she said to him, dragging him into a tight hug. 

Keith didn’t protest the gesture, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a figure wrapped in an olive green jacket, with a familiar head of brown hair disappear into the crowd with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake 
> 
> The cold that seemed to surround him fell away abruptly. His ears picked up the faint sound of beeping as his body tipped out of what he knew was a cryo-pod. Someone caught hold of him, preventing his face from kissing the floor by clutching his waist. He buried his nose in the familiar soft jacket, huffing a quiet yet tired sigh. 
> 
> “Hey sleeping beauty,” Lance said, his voice tumbling in his chest that lay under Keith’s ear. “Thought you’d never wake up.” 
> 
> “What ‘appened?” Keith asked, his brow furrowing in slight confusion. A gap lay in his memory after he’d gotten ready for the mission, but it was obvious he’d been injured seeing as he’d had to be put in a pod.
> 
> “Pidge misjudged how many guards would be in your sector of the battleship. You got hurt pretty bad,” Lance murmured, kissing the top of Keith’s head gently. Now that he noticed it, something twinged in Keith’s side but he didn’t dare let his fingers reach up to feel it. 
> 
> “Wasn’t her fault,” he replied, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and letting him lead the two of them over to a med-bed that stood a few steps away. 
> 
> “I know,” Lance said as they sat down, not letting his fingers leave Keith’s body. “But I don’t think she knows that. She’s been sitting here waiting for you almost as long as I have. I only just managed to convince her to get some food before you came out.” 
> 
> Keith hummed quietly, and some distant part of his brain registered that he’d have to amend that himself. It was a quiet thing however, and he didn’t pay much attention to it as his fingers intertwined themselves with Lance’s. 
> 
> “Had a weird dream in there,” he murmured, his eyes already threatening to slip closed. 
> 
> “Oh yeah?” Lance asked, smiling down at Keith’s tired expression. Tired and cuddly Keith was his favourite.
> 
> “We were in movies,” Keith began, licking his lips and adjusting his position to get comfortable. “Like, at one point we were in that stripper musical, the one with Obi-Wan Kenobi in it.” Lance snorted quietly, his brain immediately realising which one it was. 
> 
> “An’ then we were in Harry Potter but both of us got into the tournament thingy that happens in the fourth one,” he continued, his voice becoming more slurred as his tiredness began to take over his motor skills. 
> 
> “I hope I got to be the hero sometimes, and it wasn’t just all you Samurai,” Lance joked, listening to Keith hum quietly. 
> 
> “You were a really brave prince person, and you fought Allura with me to protect the trees,” Keith finished off, and Lance laughed quietly as the other’s eyes drooped and his breathing deepened. 
> 
> “Have a good sleep, movie star,” he whispered, pressing another sweet kiss to the crown of his head.


End file.
